Squirrel: Deux
by ICRepresentative
Summary: In the setting of Dead Man's Chest, Squirrel finds herself in danger along with Jack, Will, Elizabeth and the crew. Davy Jones has come for Jack's soul and all hell's breaking loose. POTC2
1. So It Begins

**Disclaimer**: Fifteen men on a Dead Man's Chest shouldn't sue me, please.

**A/N**: Whoo! I saw Dead Man's Chest and I just HAD to slap Squirrel in there. So, here she is then, in the movieverse rather than the fictionverse. A little bit more 'realism', this time. Yay for Squirrel! This chapter whipped off quickly in the wee hours of the morning coz I just had to write this down.

DMC spoilers. Obviously.

* * *

The story so far: A young amnesiac girl from Tortuga escaped the clutches of her abusive uncle and cousin in order to sail with the man of her dreams. With nervous mannerisms such as stuttering, in addition to her preferred diet of nuts and her ability to climb anything with ease and speed, she was known only as Squirrel. She escaped from Tortuga on the _Black Pearl_, the ship of Captain Jack Sparrow, whom the girl had admired and loved secretly from afar. On her escape, Squirrel stopped a bullet for Jack Sparrow with the amulet her father had left her - a silver doubloon. Her parents had been a merchant and a runaway member of the aristocracy, and they had died - violently killed in a drunken brawl by jealous pirates - many years ago. Squirrel, as she had been witness to that traumatic sight of their deaths, went into shock and forgot most everything about her past life. With nothing holding her to Tortuga, she went with Captain Sparrow. 

There was no secret compartment in that coin. There was no visit to Port Royal. There was no hunt for the lost treasure owed to Squirrel. There was no 'grand adventure'; just base piracy and the exploitation of Squirrel's gift in the taverns and ports along the journey. There was no realisation of love between the girl and the pirate captain she idolised.

She was a member of his crew. And that was enough.

* * *

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum…" 

Squirrel looked down from her position in the crow's nest, to where Gibbs weaved uncertainly across the deck, singing to himself and his near-empty bottle of rum. The man did not seem to be bothered by the mood of uncertainty and expectation. Squirrel felt herself getting annoyed - but then, what did she expect from Gibbs? Without Anamaria around to keep order, the man was as he had always been: an undisciplined lout. Hells, all of them were.

In the fog ahead, the Turkish prison loomed. Squirrel lifted her telescope and watched with a sick feeling in her stomach as men on a distant shore tossed coffins into the sea. _Jack, where are you? You said this wouldn't take long!_

"Drink, and the devil had done for the rest… yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Ah ha ha!" She heard Gibbs' song cut short by drunken laughter and the sound of rum being swiftly emptied from a bottle. Without warning, through the thick night fog, was the sound of a large brass gong. It was as though it were an omen of doom.

And then the crows came.

"Ah!"

Swooping low and with a dark purpose, they converged on the _Pearl_, brushing past Squirrel's face with tenebrous wings and grating cries for blood. She cried out in alarm and lost her focus as she brushed at the air, trying to keep the birds away from her. "G-go and f-f-feed on the d-d-dead, you mag-maggots!"

"Are you alright, miss?" Gibbs called up to her, sounding frightened and sober. Omens always tended to do that do him.

"I'm f-fine." Squirrel said, blushing. None of the crows had been attacking her. She felt foolish. Gibbs fears were nigh contagious sometimes. With a determined set to her mouth, she re-focused the telescope, watching the coffins as they bobbed in the sea. 'The only way a man leaves this prison is in a box', Jack had said. 'No worries.'

_Another one of the man's crazy schemes_, Squirrel thought to herself. _And for what, this time?_ With a touch of sadness, another voice added, _He would have told you about it, once upon a time. But now? Now he's too wrapped up in himself to notice you. Too caught up in his 'games' to care about anyone but himself._

_Shut up_, Squirrel wanted to tell the voice, but she knew it was true.

In the distance, a crow caught Squirrel's eye. She followed it with the glass, watched as it landed on one of the coffins and began to tap with its beak, as though it were decay knocking politely at the coffin's doorway.

Squirrel almost laughed out loud when the bird suddenly exploded. _Jack!_ She lowered the telescope, judging the distance he was from the _Pearl_ with her bare eye. Feeling the warm rush of joy colouring her face, Squirrel called down to Gibbs.

"Here h-h-he comes!"

* * *

"Not quite according to plan." 

"Complications arose, ensued… were overcome."

"But you got what you came for?"

Squirrel smiled down at Jack as he climbed aboard, but he didn't see her. He was too busy privately gloating about his latest acquisition. The mood of the ship was expectant, but Squirrel could tell she was the only one genuinely happy to see their captain back. She stayed in the rigging and watched, too nervous to make herself part of the crowd. Too worried that she would be associated with their fledgling mutiny.

Jack may not have noticed, but Squirrel was no fool. She'd been observing things all her life - very few details ever escaped her. Though Jack had a decent-sized crew aboard the _Pearl_, these men were anything but decent. They were pirates through and through - greedy and self-absorbed.

Gibbs cleared his throat as Jack stood surrounded by dark-faced men. "Captain, I think the crew - meaning me, as well…"

_But not me_, Squirrel said, adjusting her seat in the rigging and smiling down at her captain. She reached for her shanghai and readied her ammunition, just in case things got ugly.

"…were expecting something a little more… shiny."

The crew's mood darkened. Yes, something shiny. Something to buy the food and drink they were forced to now ration in half-shares. And it had been months since there had been any real 'honest pirating'. Even Squirrel could feel the beginnings of desperation nipping at her. But she wouldn't mutiny. Not against the man she loved.

"Shiny?"

"Aye, shiny."

"Is that how you're all feelin' then? That dear old Captain Jack has not held up his part of the bargain?"

_I don't feel that way, Jack. You can always count on that! _

Beside her, crawling down the ropes, a small but well-dressed bundle of fur was also observing the scene below. Squirrel smiled at it. "Evening, Jack," she whispered. The monkey leapt over to sit on her shoulder and grin at her… though that wasn't really necessary, as the undead critter didn't possess much in the way of lips… or skin, for that matter.

"I wonder what it is that the captain went after," she mused, half to herself. Jack grinned again, and took her wondering as a direct order. It leapt out of the rigging with a screech, sending those on the deck into a panic. Especially Jack Sparrow.

He grabbed a pistol and shot at the monkey, which was unharmed but flung aside. Squirrel winced, but there was no real harm done. There never was. Marty crossed the deck and recovered the item Jack had retrieved from the Turkish prison. "It's a key."

"No!" Jack sashayed over and held it up for all to see. "Much more better. It is a drawing of a key."

Squirrel frowned. A drawing of a key? Jack risked his life for a scrap of tattered oilskin? It must be more valuable than he was willing to let on.

From the rigging, Squirrel watched as Jack laid a plan of action. And she was afraid of what she saw.

From her perch above Jack in the rigging, she watched as he pulled his precious compass from his belt and laid a course. "Let's set sail in a general… that way… direction." His voice wavered with his compass.

"Captain?"

"Come on, hup-to, set sail; you know the drill." He sauntered off, leaving the crew to scramble to their stations.

Quietly, Squirrel slipped down from the ropes and moved on quiet feet to Gibbs and Marty, two of the few original remaining crew members of the _Black Pearl_. She stood at the railing with themm looking out to sea in the 'general-that-way direction' Jack had indicated.

"Have you noticed lately," Marty asked, "That the captain seems to be acting strange?"

Both Gibbs and Squirrel looked at him.

"… er?"

Gibbs snorted. "Aye. Jack Sparrow not even knowing his own course? Mark me: what bodes ill for Jack Sparrow bodes ill for all of us."

Squirrel shrugged nervously, wanting to contradict Gibbs but being able to find no excuse.

There was no denying the way that compass had wavered.

* * *

"We'll shore up for a while," Jack sauntered across the deck, one hand flapping foppishly, "Pick up fresh supplies, scrape the hull of barnacles and what-not, and then we'll sail on. Keepin' t' the shallows, of course. What say you? Aye?" 

Squirrel, just another face in the crowd, was as unconvinced as the rest of the crew. But she knew something they didn't.

For years, watching Jack Sparrow in the tavern of Tortuga, she had been unable to 'read' him as she had been able to read the other drunkards and fools who set foot in her uncle's tavern. She never knew what cards he would play, what women he would court, what fights he would start or avoid.

But now, he was like an open book to her. Squirrel could read the captain like any other man. And she did not like what she saw.

"On this island, the most we'll find is coconuts." The crew were muttering. "And fruit. And water."

Jack just grinned and waved on his feet. "Aye! Healthy stuff." He turned and looked at the fast approaching shore. "It'll do us all some good."

_Liar!_ Squirrel's senses screamed. _He's been to this island before… or, at the very least, knows of something here other than just food and fresh water_.

"You heard the captain," Gibbs called, "Get to work! Prepare to beach!"

Squirrel slid through the dispersing crew like blue-grey mercury until she came as close to Jack as she dared. "H-h-how did you hurt y-y-your hand?" She asked gently, pointing to the strip of cloth he had wrapped around said hand.

Jack's reaction was instant. He pulled his hand to his chest and turned to glare at her. "Miss Grey, did I not just give an order to the crew? And are you not part of this crew? So why are you not preparing to land, hrm?"

"What are y-y-y-y…" Squirrel felt herself blushing as Jack looked laconically at her, obviously amused by her attempts to speak clearly. She tried again, remembering Ana's advice. _Breathe deep, take your time. Concentrate_. "What are you afraid of?" Squirrel murmured.

"At this rate," Jack said, sauntering off like nothing in the world mattered but himself, "I'm afraid we'll all be starvin' to death if we don't get some supplies aboard. So get to it, lass!"

Squirrel took a breath, then hurried after the captain, pushing into his path and stopping him. He looked down at her, amused but annoyed by her insistence. Squirrel felt herself blushing as she moved closer to him.

"What happened last night?" She asked. "You woke us all for a reason." She looked at him with a critical eye. "You were s-s-screaming. Panicked. What happened?"

Jack carefully composed his face, but there was no hiding the fear in his eyes. "Nightmare, I suppose."

Squirrel mutely shook her head. That had been no nightmare. Even her own nightmares hadn't made her run screaming around the ship. Dreams were dreams. What Jack was frightened of was something much worse. Besides. Jack had come from below. When Squirrel had last seen him before catching a few winks of sleep in the crow's nest, he had been heading for his cabin with a bottle of rum in each hand. He'd not slept in his cabin. He'd gone below, and something in the bowels of the _Black Pearl_ had… visited him. Squirrel was sure of it; there was no other explanation.

_I know you, Jack Sparrow. More than ever. I know you, and that frightens you. But not as much as what haunts you_. _What did you see? Why are you so lost? And what are you trying to hide?_

Jack pushed past Squirrel, not even deigning to look at her. Squirrel felt his hand brush against the old burn on her shoulder, and both winced and blushed. The first was for the memory of the pain that had been; the second was for the pain still there, unrealised and raw.

It had been a grand thing, at first. Piracy on the open ocean with Captain Jack Sparrow! A dream come true. But now, months had passed and the whole thing had descended into tedium and complacency. Jack even seemed to have forgotten the bullet she now wore.

Squirrel fingered the dented silver coin absently. It had been a daring - stupid! - thing to do. But she'd stopped a bullet for the captain. Her captain. She'd saved his life, and then he'd dived into the sea to save hers. Squirrel sighed, still harbouring something dully painful in her heart for this rogue pirate captain, but knowing she'd be a fool to try for anything more.

"I don't see you moving, Miss Squirrel! Chop-chop, love, time's a wasting!"

With another sigh, Squirrel clambered up into the rigging, checking the knots and watching as the island came ever closer, her thoughts lost in a soft white haze.

* * *

**A/N**: More coming gradually! -edit- This chapter updated a tad to match the quality of other chapters. Sortof. 


	2. The Island

**Disclaimer**: Pirates of the Caribbean… How SPICY!

**A/N**: DMC spoilers. Avast.

* * *

It had been three days, and there was still no sign of them. 

Squirrel peered over the tops of the trees from her vantage point of the crow's nest, her eyes squinting up the mountain sides, trying to discern any movement, any sign of them. Half the crew had vanished while searching for water. That alone was cause for alarm. But Squirrel had her own private worries as well.

A few days ago she'd called Jack Sparrow a liar in her head. Now she wasn't so sure it was that simple.

"_Run! Land!_" He'd woken the crew with panicked bellows and flailed about like a landed fish, then crawled into his cabin and stared out at nothing, saying that "_nothing_" was wrong. He'd abandoned his hat at sea with a fearful "_leave it!_" and then smiled at the incredulous looks the crew had given him. For Jack to abandon his hat - one of the things he held dearer than his own life - was as unthinkable as Jack Sparrow deciding to abandon the _Black Pearl_. It was… unimaginable.

And yet… he was afraid enough to do so. Squirrel had been the only one watching the hat as they'd sailed away.

Squirrel frowned to herself. Something about the open ocean frightened Jack Sparrow. Unbelievable! Unfathomable! The sea was the wind beneath that pirate's wings. But now he trawled the shallows like… well, like Squirrel herself would do. After all, she couldn't swim.

It was as if Jack Sparrow was now afraid that he couldn't swim either.

Squirrel scanned the trees again, unable to fight the queasy feeling in her stomach. She'd always been 'sensitive' to matters outside her experience. That was how she'd been able to read people back in the tavern of Tortuga. There was something on this island that made her mind afraid, but she couldn't name it. It may have something to do with the silence of the island. It may have something to do with half the crew missing. It might have something to do with Jack's bizarre and barely-concealed fears.

But it was certainly something.

She looked down. Jack was pacing back and forth on the still deck of the _Pearl_, looking at that compass of his and muttering to himself. Even though the ship was beached and no longer rocking to and fro, Jack still swayed from side to side, marching to his own rhythm. With a soft sigh, Squirrel grabbed hold of a rope and slithered downwards towards the deck. Clearing her throat, she announced herself. "Captain…"

Jack jumped, whirled, snapped his compass shut all in one movement. "What! What?"

Squirrel blinked, alarmed. "It's just m-me, J-Jack."

Jack bared his teeth in what might have been a smile but wasn't. "Oh. Gave me a bit of a fright, love." His compass slowly receded into his sleeve, hiding like some reclusive shellfish. "Next time, a bit of a yell'll do you some good."

Squirrel fought with a frown. "Captain, I don't y-y-yell."

"Ooh," he purred, "But you should." Jack grinned, cocksure and charming once more. Squirrel felt herself flushing. Jack winked at her, obviously enjoying her embarrassment. "What can I do you for, love?"

"I th-think we sh-sh-should go and look for the c-crew."

Jack raised an eyebrow, and appeared to genuinely consider that offer. Then he grinned again. "What makes you say that, darlin'?"

"B-because I d-d-don't like it here," Squirrel said, the words tumbling out of her. "I w-want to leave!"

Jack's face shifted slowly from one expression to another. Squirrel marvelled at how flexible Jack's face was - one moment smiling, and then a merest twitch of an eyebrow and he looked downright awkward.

"Leave?" Jack laughed, but the laughter sounded feeble and forced. "Now, why would you want to leave, eh, Squirrel?" He put one arm around her shoulder and lead her to the railing, keeping her close to him. "We've got the sun, the sand, fresh air, fresh food…" He looked sidelong at her, "Beautiful… scenery…"

Squirrel wished she could sink into her cloak and vanish. But on the other hand, she was so close to Jack Sparrow…

He grinned at her. "Why would you want to leave?"

Squirrel just shook her head, unable to say anything. Unable to think.

Jack sighed, looked bored. "Yeah, you're probably right." He peeled his arm off Squirrel - a source of relief and pain - and looked out at the jungle. "Alright, let Gibbs know we're going lookin' for those worthless swabs what have decided not to come back with the water. All hands, mind you. Because I don't trust anyone with my ship but me." And he sauntered off, whistling to himself.

Squirrel realised she'd been holding her breath - she released it, her heart pounding in her ears. _Damn you, Jack Sparrow. You rogue._ _You kohl-smeared, gold-toothed rogue_. She quickly licked her lips to wipe away the silly smile that was forming.

Maybe she was wrong. It was just an island. And there was a casket of rum missing. The crew would be fine. They'd find them half-plastered somewhere and all would be well.

And maybe Jack wasn't afraid of the sea. Jack had just had nightmares. Yes. That was it. Sometimes she was just too paranoid. Even months at sea couldn't change the nagging feeling that someone was about to throw a skillet or a broken glass bottle at her. But what was she thinking? This was… well, this was freedom… basically. She wasn't trapped in Tortuga anymore. She was out in the wide world; it was her oyster. There was no need to be afraid - or paranoid - anymore.

'_Course_, she thought, giving the back of Jack's head a slight glare, the happy feelings fading away, _Around Jack Sparrow, anything's possible_. _Especially with the fears he's trying to hide from us. And failing_.

_I can read him. He is afraid. There is no denying it_. _Even my silly, foolish love for the man can't hide that fact_.

With a sigh, Squirrel crossed the decks of the _Pearl_ to go below, to find Gibbs and rouse what remained of the crew.

* * *

The crew grumbled, wiping sweat from their brows and slapping at persistent mosquitoes as they plunged on through the trees. As Jack led them through the jungle, singing raucously at the top of his lungs and hacking through the undergrowth with his cutlass, Squirrel couldn't help but feel uneasy. Her fears had come and gone with the tide - or, rather, her fears had changed depending on her proximity to the Captain. She'd been wrong before, especially about Jack Sparrow. Could she have been wrong this time too? The way he crashed through the trees, announcing his presence to all living things, made Squirrel think that maybe Jack really hadn't been here. 

But still, there was something here that was not quite right…

Marty tugged on the corner of Squirrel's blue-grey cloak, waking her from her thoughts.

"Ey, Miss Sk'irrl… Where's Jack taking us?"

Squirrel shrugged slightly. "I d-don't know. Where we think the c-c-crew were headed, I g-guess."

Marty's frown just deepened, and he quickened his pace. He had to run to keep up even with Squirrel's slow walk. "Well, then, it's a good thing that we…" Squirrel stopped, and Marty nearly ran into her. "Missy?"

Squirrel closed her eyes and listened. Behind the adventuring party were the sounds of the sea - the tide which had beached the _Pearl_ like some ungainly whale. Behind them were droning cicadas, the sounds of soft birdcall.

But before them, aside from Jack's off-key singing and the sound of floral decapitation… nothing. Just silence. Dead silence.

"Jack?" She called, and was surprised she managed to get his name out so clear.

Jack whirled, putting a bored look on his face. "Yis?" He called.

"Wh…" Squirrel took a breath. "Where are we g-going?"

Most of the crew continued marching ahead, muttering about whiny females; Jack marched through the parting pirates like some sozzled Moses. "We," he smiled a little belittlingly, looking down at Squirrel, "Are going deep into the jungle. You know, where all the trees are. And quite a few leaves as well, I'm told. But don't take my word for it." He smiled dazzlingly.

Squirrel gave him a critical look. "And we'll f-f-find the crew there?"

Jack continued smiling, completely unaffected, then turned back to try and regain the lead.

"You don't h-hear that?" Squirrel said softly.

"Wot?" Jack whirled back.

"Listen," Squirrel looked up at the trees. "It's too quiet."

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed, then waved Gibbs, Marty and Cotton over. "Intervention, gentlemen! Miss Grey here believes it's far too quiet!"

Squirrel felt herself turning indignantly red. She looked down and shuffled her feet. "Well, it is," she muttered, embarrassed.

After a few moments' pause where the five pirates stood silent and listening, Gibbs, Cotton and Marty looked at Squirrel. Then, all four of them looked at Jack, Squirrel somewhat smugly.

Jack tried to look innocent. "What?" He frowned slightly. "So the jungle's not exactly Tortuga on a Friday night. Big deal. What's a few bugs and birds to…" he slowly stopped talking. He paused a moment. Then, he looked strangely at Squirrel. "Yeah, you know, you're right. Far too quiet." He craned his head, peering through the underbrush. "Where's the rest of the crew got to?"

Squirrel sighed heavily. "I'll go see," she said, knowing Jack would have ordered her to go anyway. Jack seemed to favour the 'if it's dangerous, send the girl' tactic. It was either because he knew she could handle herself… or because he felt awkward around her. Either way, it was a relief to move out of Jack's shadow. As Squirrel pushed past the captain, she kicked him in the shins. It was the least she could do.

She delved into the foliage, hearing Gibbs and Jack arguing behind her. She smiled a little at that, but still felt uneasy. There was still something very wrong here.

She looked up at the sky. Of course. That's why it all felt wrong. The trees were so thick that their branches formed a roof. _And back in Tortuga, I never walked under a roof… I walked on it!_ With a small grin, Squirrel clambered up the nearest tree. Once safely in the branches, she cast her eyes around, looking for signs the crew had left behind three days ago. A few minutes searching, as she was able to see them, discern them from the passing of the crew a few minutes ago. Broken branches, snatched of ragged clothing, footprints in the mud… Keeping half an eye on the ground, Squirrel manoeuvred herself through the branches of the trees, moving as quietly as she could.

She nearly fell out of her tree when she heard Jack yodelling off in the distance.

_Dammit, Jack Sparrow!_ She quickly hauled on a vine before she completely lost her balance and pulled herself back onto the branch. _Next time I see that wobbly-legged_… _Wait… yodelling?_ Squirrel listened more intently before the voices faded completely into the jungle.

"_Don't eat me! Don't eat me! Don't eat me!"_

Squirrel blinked and frowned. "What?" She couldn't help but whisper.

Then there was a different kind of whisper from the branch above her. Squirrel felt something sting her arm, and cried out… and then everything went black.

**

* * *

A/N:** I'm having fun putting Squirrel in the movie. And she should have been! Hehe. 


	3. Unorthodox Piracy

**Disclaimer**: Squirrel is mine, the movie is not. But what I wouldn't give to work on a movie like this…

**A/N**: I think I need to see this movie again. And again. And maybe one more time. And then I'll buy the DVD.

* * *

She woke on her back, woozy, uncomfortable and vaguely annoyed. 

"Ooh, she's alive!" The blurred faces of the crew came into view. "Oh, I have never been so happy to see the sea-wench alive!"

"Watch wh-who you're callin' a w-wench," Squirrel muttered, putting out an arm to try and pull herself upright. Instead, her arm shot through to empty space. That woke her up quickly.

"Ah!"

"Stop rocking it!"

"I think I'm gonna be seasick."

"Thousands of feet in the air?"

"Still sick!"

"Squirrel!" Gibbs' voice called out. "Stop your flailing and calm down!"

_I never thought you'd be the voice of reason, Gibbs_, Squirrel smiled, calming down and blinking away the last of the fuzziness. She looked up at a curved cage roof made of spines and other bones. The ground she was lying on was swaying, and also made from bones. One of them was digging into her own spine rather painfully. "Where am I?"

"You're in a cage made from human bones suspended by a rope over a bottomless ravine," One of the newer members of the crew - Leech, that Indian man - put in, rather unhelpfully.

_I knew there was a reason I never liked you much_, Squirrel thought savagely. "Dare I ask… why?"

"They're cannibals, Miss," Gibbs said, somewhere to her left. "Savin' us for later, I daresay."

"Oh." Squirrel carefully felt around, found a secure piece of … human bone… and gently pulled herself upright. She was in one cage - ball, really - with five other members of the crew; Gibbs, Marty, Cotton and another man she didn't know were in the other cage. Squirrel felt a stab of alarm as she took this in. "Where's the captain?" She asked, not even bothering to hide the panic in her voice.

"They made him their chief," Marty muttered sarcastically.

Squirrel remembered that, but still. "That d-doesn't answer…"

"Them savages caught us all," Gibbs continued, sounding grim, "Knocked us out with their little blowdarts and tossed us in here."

_Blowdarts_? Squirrel checked her arm. Sure enough, there was one. That explained why she'd passed out in that tree. She plucked it out of her arm and tossed it away, trying not to think about how far it would fall. "But, Jack… he is alright, isn't he?"

"Most likely," Gibbs said absently. Then, because he saw Squirrel's wide eyes trained on him, muttered guiltily, "… not."

The stranger in the cage with Gibbs nodded sagely, though he seemed to be brooding a bit. "Well, there's hardly a time when Captain Jack Sparrow is alright, I suppose." He looked at Gibbs. "Where are the rest of the crew?"

"Well, let me put it like this," Gibbs said, with a trace of morbid storyteller's glee. "These cages? They were made before we got here." Will let go of the bars and grimaced.

Squirrel did the same, feeling queasy, but she peered through at the stranger, curious despite herself. "Who are you?"

He turned to face her. "William Turner."

Squirrel found her jaw dropping, and her stammer vanished. "_The_ William Turner? From the stories about the Isla de Muerta and the Aztec gold?" She peered through the bars at the man Jack had mentioned in the tale, awed.

The mention of the now re-lost treasure of the Isla de Muerta made Gibbs look hangdog for a moment. "Aye. He's the same."

Will looked at her quizzically. "And you are?"

"I'm Squirrel," Squirrel said, then blushed at the look Will gave her.

"Long story," Marty put his two cents in. "She'll explain when she has time."

"Yes," Will said, looking grim. "And we don't have a lot of time at the moment." He looked to Gibbs. "Jack said to save him. What did he mean?"

"Well, lad, the Pelecostas believe that Jack is a god in human form."

Squirrel couldn't help but giggle at that. Jack, a god? Like his ego needed any more stoking. He'd be threatening to smite them down with lightning bolts next time they refused to obey a direct order.

"And, as a god, they're going to help release him from his fleshy prison."

Squirrel was horrified. "What?" Will's face was equally incredulous. Cotton supplied the unasked-for answer for both of them by grabbing Gibbs' hand and chomping down on it. "No!" Squirrel screamed. She stared at the bars of the cage, disgusted and terrified.

"Aye, lass." Gibbs supplied. "Jack's life ends when the drums stop." Squirrel cocked her ear with the rest of the crew, hearing the drum beats for the first time. They were the countdown. The countdown of Jack's life. Like a heartbeat…

"No!"

The crew in the cage with Squirrel started yelping again. "Gibbs, for the love of all things sacred, tell this girl to stop rocking the cage! We're have little time as it is!"

Squirrel ignored them. She continued to pull at the bar - the spine - above her head, at the top of the cage. With a dry crackle, it gave way, shattering into pieces in her hand. She quickly wiped her hand on her cloak, disgusted, then jumped.

"Lass, what the hell are you doin'?" Gibbs bellowed.

"I'm getting out of here!" Squirrel grunted, heaving herself up through the hole she had made, but she wasn't strong enough to pull herself through. She looked down at the whining crewmen. "Give me a boost."

One enterprising fellow - seeing as the girl who was making such a fuss intended to leave - gingerly knelt under Squirrel's feet and slowly stood up, helping her through the hole. She scrambled to her feet and took hold of the rope to steady herself.

Will was watching her curiously, and nodded approvingly as he saw Squirrel's intention. "I agree, miss. We can't just sit here and do nothing."

Squirrel balanced herself carefully, careful not to look down. The spine had given way too easily under her hands. She didn't trust the strength of the bones under her feet. She quickly grabbed the mooring rope and began to shimmy upwards. Climbing was what she was good at.

"Stop rocking the cage!" Leech bawled.

"No!" Will shouted, an element of undeniable command in his voice. "That's what we should do! Swing the cages to the cliff side." He pointed to the far wall. "See those vines? We can use them! We can use them to climb up the cliff and help Jack escape!"

Squirrel smiled to herself as she neared the top of the rope. That Will Turner was certainly officer material. When he spoke, everyone listened. He'd certainly make a worthy captain of some vessel. Just not her captain. Her captain was the one and only Jack Sparrow.

_Who is about to be eaten by cannibals_.

That wiped the smile from her face. She scrambled up the final few feet of the hanging rope, then stared at the rest of the way. Several feet of single hemp rope stretched horizontally over a yawning crevice. And the rope itself was starting to sway, given the fact that the cages were swinging so vigorously back and forth.

_It's just like in a storm_, Squirrel told herself, _Just like in a tropical storm and you're up in the rigging of the _Pearl_. Just move and don't think_. She grabbed hold of it, swung under it so she looked up at the sky, and monkey-crawled her way slowly to the other side. She heard the shouts of the crew as they flung themselves at the bars, forcing the balls to pendulum in wider and wider swings, heard their shouts of near-despair as they missed by mere inches.

Squirrel nearly cried when she reached the other side. Solid land! She heaved herself to, then lay flat on the blessed soil for a moment to catch her breath.

"Climb!" She heard Will Turner shout. "We've got to get to the top!"

_Good_, she thought with a smile, _The crew'll be safe. They'll climb up, and we can go back to the ship, arm up, and then go to find and save Jack Sparrow. And everything will be fine_.

And then she looked up.

Crossing the narrow wooden bridge was one of the Pelecosta tribesmen. He would be sure to see them.

"Will!" She crawled to the edge of the cliff and hissed down at the two cages. "Gibbs! Cotton! Stop! Stop!"

They looked up at her, saw her pointing, and stopped climbing.

"Stop! Stop!" Will hissed at the second cage. The two cages clung like bloated ticks to the cliff side, waiting until the sentry passed them by.

Squirrel kept herself flat on the ground, hoping and praying that her blue-grey cloak wouldn't give her away. _Don't look this way. Just turn around and go back. Please_.

"Miss Grey!"

Squirrel looked over the edge, slowly.

Gibbs nodded up at her. "Get to the ship, lass," he hissed, "And make ready to launch."

"What?" Squirrel whispered back, "All by myself? I can't!"

"Please!" Gibbs hissed, urgently. "You have to! We need all the hands we can get!"

"Aye," Will added, "We need all of us to help crew the _Pearl_."

"Actually," Leech put in, "You don't need all of us. About six would do."

There was a pause as the man's words sank into all of them.

Squirrel quietly rose to her feet, turned, and fled through the jungle, heading for the beach.

* * *

The tide was coming in. Squirrel skidded to a halt in the sand, trying to get her breath back. Behind her, the drums had stopped. 

_Jack, you better have had some plan of escaping, because if you die, so help me I'll_…

She looked up. There was someone on the _Pearl_. Someone she didn't know. But, from the looks of things, they were trying to make off with Jack's ship.

"Hey!" She shouted, indignantly, running towards the ship. "Hey! What are you doing?" A dog barked at her as she ran past, but she took no notice of it.

Two pirates, one on the deck the other untying the mooring lines. Mangy mongrels and scavengers, by the looks of them. They both turned incredulous looks at her as she ran towards them.

"Well, 'allo sweet'eart." The one on the ground - bald and eye-level with Squirrel - leered at her. "What brings you to our fair ship, ey?"

Squirrel glared at the pirate. "This is not your ship - the _Black Pearl_ is the property of Captain Jack Sparrow," she said, anger giving her a clear and proper British accent, in which each word was like a whip crack. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Savin' it!" The pirate up on the deck - tall and scrawny - grinned.

Squirrel glared up at the tall pirate, then shouted at the rigging. "Jack! A little help!"

There was a screech, and a bundle of black and white fur leapt out from the rigging and landed on the scrawny pirate's head, shrieking almost as loud as the pirate was.

Squirrel smirked, shouted a quick 'thankyou!', then turned her attention back to Bald Pirate. "Saving it from what, exactly?"

Bald looked a little awkward, but continued his bluff. "The tide, obviously. Wouldn't want a ship this valuable to be lost at sea. Why, any ruffian could salvage it…" His leer vanished, and he became cold and businesslike, drawing his cutlass. "And you're gettin' in our way, sweet--"

Squirrel smacked Bald Pirate's sword aside with her free hand - Bald Pirate stared at the tip of a silver dagger, looking alarmed. Most likely he hadn't seen her drawing it. But with it just centimetres from his nose, he understood her intent.

"You see this?" Squirrel said calmly, aware she was red with anger but not really caring. "This is a dagger. It can go at least 18 places that a sword cannot." She paused, then added as an afterthought, "Repeatedly."

The jungle suddenly erupted in shouts, echoing off the mountains and heard even over the roar of the sea and the cries of the monkey and the tall pirate. Squirrel looked over her shoulder briefly, her heart pounding as loud as any drum. _Gibbs? Marty? Will? And Jack as well?_ Relief that they were all alive was tempered by that fear that came from the shouting and chanting of the natives.

Squirrel fixed the bald pirate with a determined glare. "Congratulations," she said, trying to keep the urgency from her voice, "You've just been recruited into the crew of Captain Jack Sparrow. Your duties will be given once the captain himself returns." She lowered her dagger slightly. "But to start off, you can get the _Black Pearl_ into the water and prepared for immediate launch."

The bald pirate gave a small apologetic grin, attempting to appease the crazy girl with the dagger. "That's what we were doing in the first place." He scurried to untie the next mooring line. "We was helpin' you out!"

"I n-noticed." Squirrel looked back over her shoulder, hearing the shouts coming ever closer. Will, Gibbs, Marty and Cotton were still coming, as was Jack, and as was the pursuing native cannibals. This island was dangerous, and time was running out. Their very lives were at stake here - everyone's lives. And Squirrel and the two newest crew members were the only things which could ensure their safety and freedom. Pressure.

But Heaven help her if she didn't smile just a little. She had just recaptured the _Black Pearl_ from two grown men with just a dagger and a monkey. If that didn't make her a pirate, what did?

**

* * *

A/N:** And Squirrel's having fun with the piracy thing. Come on, who wouldn't? 


	4. How Much Do You Know?

**Disclaimer**: Let go the mooring line! We're salvaging this here movie for the benefit of all! … Disney, we're helping you! I swears it!

**A/N**: Rated G for pictures of keys, fireflies, and graphic scenes of rowing through the swamp.

* * *

Squirrel shaded her eyes and watched as Will, Gibbs, Marty and Cotton barrelled down the beach. Mister Cotton's brawked loudly from his perch on the helm, welcoming them back. Squirrel smiled and gripped the railing. _All's well that ends well. Now, all we need do is wait for Jack to show up_. 

"Get the moorin' line!" Pintel bellowed from waist-deep in the ocean. Already the ship was bobbing in the waves. It wanted to be free, but it wasn't going anywhere without her captain. Squirrel smiled and brushed her had across the wood, sharing the same thoughts.

Ragetti scrambled across the deck, chasing the well-dressed primate who bore the captain's name. Jack the monkey cackled, kicking the wooden eye across the deck, then leaping after it and chewing on it thoughtfully. This prompted another wail of despair from Ragetti. "No! Don't bite it!" He called down to his friend, "'E's got me eye!"

"Well, 'ow'd you get it back last time?"

Squirrel looked at the lanky pirate, surprised. "Last time? You know the monkey?"

"Get the moorin' line!" Pintel bellowed again. Ragetti scrambled for it, abandoning his eye for the time being.

"Good man!" Squirrel heard Will's voice.

"We was helpin' you!" Pintel said, simperingly, grinning at Will in what might be considered a comradely way. "We was doin' the work for you!"

Squirrel smirked to herself. _And of your own free will too, no doubt_.

"Welcome b-back, gentlemen!" She called. "Feel f-free to come aboard!" Gibbs, Marty and Cotton didn't need a second invitation, but Will hung back in the surf.

"What about Jack?" He called. "I'm not leaving without him."

Heads turned to the end of the beach. A single figure flailed down the stretch of white sand. Squirrel smiled, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. And then, her heart started racing in alarm. Two different types of panic.

Jack's worshippers were right behind him, armed and shouting.

"Time to go," Will whimpered, and quickly climbed up the side of the _Pearl_ as she slid out into the waves.

"What happened to the rest of the crew?" Squirrel asked, grabbing hold of Will's sleeve. Will just shook his head; Squirrel moved back, shocked at the loss but not knowing what else to feel.

Jack hurried through the surf, grabbing for the ropes at the _Pearl_'s port side, then turned back to bid the cannibals farewell. It started off rather dramatically, but it didn't end so well.

Squirrel snorted with laughter as the captain came aboard, his face smeared in makeup, sopping wet, and looking like he wanted to kill something.

"W-welcome back, y-y-your highness," she murmured, unable to stop grinning.

Jack shot her a look. "That's All-Powerful Omnipotent Being to you, love." Squirrel nodded in mock-seriousness, trying to hide her smile. Jack managed to pass a quick smirk her way before being accosted by Gibbs. Squirrel busied herself with the ropes, trying to work away her blush, too absorbed in her own thoughts to worry about the conversation between Gibbs and Jack. She did look back, though; Pintel and Ragetti dressed Jack in his cloak, saluting and smiling when Jack turned to look their way. But the captain didn't seem too worried about the crew's latest additions.

_Which means that I'll have to apologise later for threatening them_.

"… where's that monkey?" Jack grizzled, clearly not paying much attention to Gibbs either. "I want to shoot something."

A wooden eyeball shot down from the rigging, missing Jack's head by inches. Ragetti leapt after it, gleefully spit-shining it and returning it to its rightful place. The one who had thrown the eyeball leapt down from the rigging and hurtled across the deck. Jack trained his pistol on the darting beastie…

"Ah!" Squirrel jumped in alarm as she felt the monkey leap up under her cloak and cling to her back. Jack - the monkey - hissed while Jack - the captain - looked daggers at the monkey.

"Ah, captain?" Gibbs cleared his throat. "As much as you hate that bundle o' fur, I think you should take into account who he's hiding behind."

"Oh, I am." Jack growled, still aiming the pistol. "Miss Grey? Kindly turn around, please."

Squirrel sighed, and backed away slowly, one hand snaking around behind her to soothe the undead monkey. She always ended up between the two of them, somehow. Always. "S-s-sorry, captain. Can't f-follow that o-o-order."

Jack sighed in what might have been mock-anger, and put away his pistol. "Women. Always getting in the way."

Squirrel turned away, blushing furiously, and the monkey scurried around to her front, curling up in her arms. It looked adoringly up at her, but Squirrel wasn't fooled.

"You owe me," she hissed at it, then melted and scratched it under its chin. Even though it was undead and Jack hated it intensely, there was something adorable about this thing. The monkey cooed, made a surprisingly human bow, then leapt up and away into the rigging. Squirrel watched it go, smiling, then looked shorewards. The Pelegostas were leaving… chasing someone. Squirrel felt her heart lurch. One of the crew? Had someone else survived and been left behind?

She squinted, and felt a minor bit of relief. Just the mongrel dog that had barked at her before. The poor thing. Squirrel's heart went out to it. She hoped it could escape.

_Funny_, Squirrel thought absently, _You worry about a dog but you don't care about Leech and the other members of the crew_. Squirrel twisted the edge of her cloak in her hands, feeling guilty for not feeling guilty.

"… there comes a time when every man must pay for his mistakes."

Squirrel turned back to the decks, and was met with the sight of Jack standing awkwardly, and Will with a sword against Jack's throat.

_This is what happens when you pay more attention to a monkey and a dog, Squirrel_, she berated herself, looking from Jack to Will in alarm. _You miss something important_.

"I need that compass of yours, Jack. It's the only way I can save Elizabeth."

Squirrel felt herself jolt with alarm. Elizabeth _Swann_? Will's fiancée? She was in danger? How? When? Why?

Jack appeared unconcerned. He brushed aside the steel and moved to Gibbs, who was at the helm. "It seems we have a need to travel upriver."

Squirrel briefly cast her eyes back to the shore with undisguised fear. _We're going back? After we just managed to escape?_

Gibbs' expression mirrored Squirrel's. "A 'need', as in, a trifling need? A fleeting need? More of a passing fancy?"

"No," Jack said, his forced grin failing to mask the determined and grim look on his face. "I mean a resolute and unyielding need." He wiped at his face, smearing the makeup; he looked at his coloured fingers with a moue of distaste before wiping them on Gibbs' jacket. The first mate's eyes hardened, but other than that he didn't react.

Jack looked back to Will. "You help us find this," he said, procuring the piece of oilskin with the drawing of the key, "And what it goes to, and then you get to go back to save donnie-bell, wotserface. Savvy?"

"This," Will pointed at the drawing incredulously, "Is going to help us save Elizabeth?"

Jack's mood darkened slightly, and his voice lowered an octave; Squirrel had to move closer to hear him, but even then she barely heard Jack whisper, "How much do you know about Davy Jones?"

"Davy Jones?" Will frowned, seeming to think. Finally, he shook his head, perplexed. "Not much."

Jack's mood lightened, and nonchalance marched across his features. "Yeah, then this'll save Elizabeth," Jack said dismissively, looking out to sea.

Squirrel watched the exchange between the men curiously. She'd heard legends of Davy Jones growing up in Tortuga. From all accounts, he was a myth. A terror of the sea, one that haunted many men's nightmares, but nothing more than a myth. But then, so was Barbossa, and - for that matter - Captain Jack Sparrow. What was Jack getting everyone into this time? Chasing another legend? You would have thought that he'd had enough adventure for one lifetime. Even for a pirate's lifetime. Even for the lifetime of Captain Jack Sparrow.

But… Elizabeth? She was in danger? And Will…? Squirrel found herself smiling softly. Will was risking all in order to save his beloved? It was so… romantic, for lack of a better word. … No. There was no better word. 'Heroic' came close, but to do so much for the woman he loved? Purely romantic. Something out of a love story.

But if Will - and Jack, of course… and the crew as well - had to face Davy Jones in order to save Elizabeth… then that was one adventure Squirrel was very much willing to be a part of.

_I'm going to help you, Will Turner_, Squirrel thought silently. _Because nothing's more important that what one will do for love._

Her eyes strayed briefly to Jack, and she found herself blushing and smiling warmly.

* * *

They moored the Pearl in the shallows and continued on by longboat. Heading upriver. Squirrel was nervous, constantly scanning the trees and shoreline as they approached for any sign of the Pelegostas. But the cannibal tribe did not appear to be looking for them. 

Squirrel looked ahead, at the longboat which contained Jack. She would have loved to be in that boat with Jack, just sitting beside him, but Jack had insisted she go with Gibbs, Will and the two new pirates. Pintel in particular had been nervous even sitting near her, but on Gibbs' assurances and Squirrel's murmured and embarrassed apology all was forgiven.

Jack had wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Or, at the very least, alone. Squirrel had silently - though sadly - accepted that.

"You said your name was Squirrel?"

Squirrel woke from her silent watch to turn to look at Will, whom she was seated next to. "Aye. Squirrel G-Grey."

"That's not your real name… is it?" He looked at her, curiously.

Squirrel shrugged, her cloak falling a little closer around her. "It's been my name for years. I… I have amnesia. I've f-forgotten a lot." She felt for her amulet, feeling her eyes well slightly with tears. _Why_ _cry so easily? You'll remember them someday. Don't cry - not in front of Will Turner_… She wiped at her eyes and let the amulet drop.

Will nodded, understandingly, and changed the subject. "How long have you been a member of the crew?"

"A few m-months," she said. She saw, in the trees, what might have been a human figure. She squinted at it, but, between the afternoon shadows and the thick plant cover, it was impossible to tell. "A few months," she repeated, "Since Jack p-picked me up in T-Tortuga." She smiled slightly, and added by way of explanation, "I was b-born there. Not a very p-pleasant childhood."

Will smiled and nodded, then looked upriver, where Jack stood at the prow of the longboat ahead like some ancient Greek god. "So do you know Jack very well?"

Squirrel blushed, despite the innocence of the question. "No b-b-better than anyone else," she said. Her eyes locked on Jack, and could not turn away. "He's changed, recently. I… I don't know h-how to explain it." She paused a moment, thinking. Then, her lips formed the words which had been brewing silently in the back of her mind for days. "He's a-afraid. Afraid of th-the open ocean."

Squirrel felt Will's eyes turn back to her. "Why is Jack afraid of the open ocean?"

Gibbs took over, knowing the chance to tell a good story when he saw it. "Well, if you believe the stories, then there can be only one thing that Jack's afraid of." He paused, holding everyone's eyes - Will, Ragetti, Pintel and finally - as she brought her eyes back from the captain - at Squirrel. "The Kraken."

Gibbs looked grim, and Pintel and Ragetti both looked somewhat frightened. Both Squirrel and Will were listening intently - Gibbs had that kind of power as a storyteller.

"Imagine," Gibbs said, his voice nothing but a burring whisper, "The last thing you know on God's green Earth is the roar of the Kraken… and the stench of a thousand rotting corpses."

Will glanced at Squirrel. She blushed slightly, not used to people looking her in the eye the way Will did. She glanced aside to hide her face, and saw Pintel and Ragetti looking to her for reassurance. The alarm in her eyes did not reassure them at all. But she wasn't just alarmed at Gibbs' story. She had seen people in the trees. Negroes, escaped slaves by the looks of them. Watching and waiting, they were silent sentinels to the passing longboats. It was strange how they stood so still and quiet, like they were part of the swamp the pirates were rowing through. Squirrel bit her lip, debating whether or not to raise an alarm, then looked back at her captain.

Jack seemed unworried. But then, he had larger worries. Squirrel held her gaze on Jack Sparrow, lost in her thoughts.

"Of course," Gibbs finished, smiling knowingly, "If you believe in such things."

"And Jack thinks the Kraken is after him?" Will asked, his voice low.

Gibbs nodded. "Aye. Apparently so." His mouth pursed in distaste. "He's afraid enough to even visit… _her_."

Will tilted his head. "Her?"

"Aye." Gibbs' frown deepened, and he did not elaborate. The silence of the swamp suddenly seemed oppressive.

Squirrel was aware of someone looking at her. She unfocused her gaze on the back of Jack's head, and found Ragetti looking at her awkwardly. She'd been looking over his right shoulder to see Jack; perhaps he thought she'd been staring at him. She nodded at Ragetti - received an embarrassed nod in return - then lowered her hood. Hiding her blush and her face, Squirrel was able to look out at the water and watch as the night rolled in.

She dared not look to Jack again.

Night came slowly, as slowly as the longboats crawled through the swamp. Strangely enough, as the shadows grew and blended into one another, the number of faces watching from the trees and the water increased. And they seemed to be bolder now, too. The sentinels were no longer hanging back, camouflaged amongst the trees - they stood waist-deep in the water, or sat close to the waters edge and followed the crew's slow progress with their eyes.

It was a little unnerving. Squirrel pulled at her hood, trying harder to vanish into the blue-grey cloak her mother had left her. She didn't like being watched. She'd rather be the one doing the watching; and from up above, where no-one could see her.

She wanted to be invisible. She didn't like it here.

Soft flickering lights began to shine over the water, and Squirrel found herself reaching out for one of the tiny will-o-the-wisps. Gently, her hand closed around one, and she brought it to her and stared at it. Resting in her cupped hands was a small brown bug. It wasn't anything special, and Squirrel was somewhat disappointed. But as she watched, it slowly gave off a soft yellow light, a dull throbbing luminescence. Smiling, Squirrel opened her hand, and watched as the firefly took wing and bobbed back through the air towards the foliage.

"Beautiful," she whispered softly. _Even something so plain can glow brighter than any candle_…

"Yes," Will said, "They are." Squirrel jumped slightly - she hadn't meant for anyone to hear her. She ducked her head, pink once more.

Gibbs coughed slightly. "We're here," he murmured, "Heaven help us."

Squirrel lifted her gaze over Ragetti's shoulder, and saw a hut in the trees - a home built on stilts half-in, half-over the water. It was, in a strange ungainly way, a house which could easily be called home. But something about it - maybe, about what it contained - made Squirrel feel strangely uneasy.

_You're letting Gibbs get the better of you_, a voice scolded Squirrel. _His fears aren't yours_.

She wanted to disagree. _But still_, she thought, _On a cannibal island, in a swamp full of silent watching faces, nothing good can come from whoever lives in this house_.

As they moored, Jack stood up on the tiny dock and greeted everyone with a cocksure grin. "No worries, mates. Tia Dalma and I go way back. Thick as thieves; nigh inseparable we are." He paused, looking a little less sure. "Were." He looked downright glum now, "Have been… before…"

Gibbs stood and faced his captain, as any good First Mate would. "I'll watch your back."

Jack winced a little. "It's me front I'm worried about." He twirled and started to climb the wooden stairs.

Gibbs turned back, looking down at Will. "Mind the boat," he ordered, then turned to follow the captain.

Squirrel rose from her seat, and just set both feet on the dock when Will turned to her. "Mind the boat."

Squirrel blushed indignantly. She'd been denied the chance to be in the longboat with Jack Sparrow - she wasn't about to miss the chance to follow him into the hut of Tia Dalma, whoever he or she was. She turned to the person behind her - Ragetti - and gave the order. "Mind the boat." Without waiting for an objection, Squirrel hurried after Will, climbing at his heels.

A few moments later, Squirrel felt claws on her shoulder. Mister Cotton's parrot had decided to join them.

"Mind the boat," it laughed softly, then nibbled on Squirrel's ear. "Pieces of eight?"

Squirrel fiddled with a bag tied to her belt, and pulled out an almond for the bird. She'd always carried a bag of assorted nuts on her person. They made for a good snack, they were partially the reason for her name, and besides… who was she to break tradition?

Cotton's parrot flew off of her shoulder to sit on the railing, chewing on the nut, as Squirrel reached the top of the stairs. She stood on the threshold of the house with Gibbs and Will, watching as Jack slowly entered the house. Squirrel watched Jack with marked concern. He moved cautiously, nervously, as though wondering whether or not he would be welcomed.

That welcome was assured at the sound of a woman's gleeful voice from within, but it sent shivers down Squirrel's spine.

"Jaaaack Spaaarow... I knew de wind would blaw ye back t' me door sum-dee."

**

* * *

A/N: **Next up - A touch of destiny! Meeting the voodoo witch! …well, yeah, you kinda knew this was coming. I mean, you seen the movie, right? Reviews make me happy, and will likely get a reply. :D 


	5. Destiny

**Disclaimer**: Let them taste the triple guns.

**A/N**: These chapters just keep getting longer. Huzzah!

* * *

Gibbs hung back, murmuring under his breath, leaving Squirrel and Will to move forward into the voodoo witch's tree-hut. Squirrel hung back with some trepidation. 

Will smiled reassuringly at her, then made a half-bow. "Ladies first," he said gently. The chivalrous display of manners brought a pink tinge to Squirrel's cheeks, and she entered the cabin first, too flustered to think on her fears.

The inside of the hut was warm, packed with bottles and baskets and crates and all manner of strange paraphernalia. And it was all lit by candlelight. The smell of candle wax and scented smoke filled the air, dispelling the swamp smells from outside. Squirrel looked around, fascinated despite herself.

"You, ghel."

Squirrel looked up, and saw a dark-skinned woman smiling with blackened teeth. Squirrel took in the woman's strange tattoos and beaded hair; the elaborate dress - those brazenly bare shoulders! - and the strange, almost elemental quality of her movements. That, and the fact that she was practically in Jack's arms. Squirrel made her mind up to dislike the woman almost immediately. Not hate, just dislike.

"You weep for deh livin'," Tia Dalma said, moving away from Jack slightly, a knowing smile on her face. "An' not for deh dead. You are wiser dan mos'."

Squirrel looked at the woman, aware her expression was twisting into incredulity and disbelief. _What kind of cryptic mumbo-jumbo is this?_ "You m-must be T-Tia Dalma."

The woman just smiled knowingly - darkly - at Squirrel. "An' you mus' be deh girl wid no mem'ry of her oon neem." If the woman was going to say anything else, it was forgotten… much to Squirrel's chagrin. Tia looked over Squirrel's shoulder and her eyes widened. "You."

Squirrel looked over her shoulder, and saw Will standing in the doorway, looking just as perplexed as Squirrel had been. Tia moved fluidly, crossing the floor with barely a swish of her dress.

"You 'ave a touch of dehstiny about yoo…" She crooned, inches from Will's face. "…Will-yam Tur-nah."

Squirrel jumped. Surely Jack could not have told the witch William's name. She looked to Jack, but he looked just as surprised. Squirrel frowned under her hood, but said nothing.

Will frowned uncertainly at Tia, moving away from her slightly. "You know me?"

Tia grinned and purred, "You wan' to know me…?" Squirrel was suddenly reminded of her cousin setting her sights on another man. Tia bore a striking similarity to Dawn in this regard.

Jack moved forward, and tried to regain control of the situation. "There'll be no knowing here!" He said gruffly, pulling Tia back out of Will's personal space. "We came here for help and we're not leaving without it!" He frowned slightly at Tia as he led her away. "I thought I knew you."

Squirrel barely held back an indignant noise of protest. Tia seemed to know - she turned and winked slowly at her, before dryly commenting to Jack, "Not whell enough, it seem." Squirrel pinked, but moved forward with Jack and Will, refusing to be shut out or to fail to answer Tia's silent challenge.

"Come," Tia said, standing behind a rickety wooden table. Scattered over the table were books, pieces of jewellery and… Squirrel frowned, and moved around to the table, standing at Tia's left. Were those crab claws? And the candle holders… those weren't really bats, were they? Squirrel looked around Tia's hut, taking in the strange collection of things - hanging from the ceiling, tied to the walls, hanging from the rafters…. They probably were bats. Real ones too. Taxidermy at its finest. Squirrel peered thoughtfully at them. It's amazing they don't get singed by the candle flames… Squirrel mentally shook herself, and forced herself to focus on what was being said and done by the people in the room.

"What… service…" Tia was purring, stroking Will's chin - an action he clearly did not appreciate but was far too much of a gentleman to push Tia away, "May I do you?" The voodoo woman lifted her head to look meaningfully at Jack, and her voice took on a harsher note. "You know dat I deman' pey-men'."

Jack smiled and nodded. "Course you do." He turned and whistled, and Pintel came forward, carrying a cage covered in canvas. Jack whipped the canvas aside, and presented Tia Dalma with Jack.

The monkey looked around the room in some alarm, even more so when Jack loaded his pistol and aimed it point-blank through the bars of the cage and fired. The monkey screeched in alarm as it was fired upon, but came to no harm.

"Look," Jack grinned. "An undead monkey." He passed the cage across Will to Tia. "Top that!"

Tia looked critically at the monkey, then turned the cage and pulled back the stick that held the door closed. And then she opened the door and set Jack free.

"No!" Gibbs said, then winced as he watched the monkey scramble out and across the table. "You've no idea how hard it was to catch him!"

Squirrel snorted. It _may have taken you ages, Joshamee Gibbs, but all I had to do was call out and remind him of a favour owed, and he swung down and curled up in my arms. Albeit sadly and reluctantly, knowing he was going into a cage_. She watched curiously as the monkey moved with purpose across the floor, leaping to a section of Tia's hut which resembled a bedroom. The monkey perched on a pair of boots and chirped quietly.

_Goodbye, Jack_, Squirrel thought to herself. _I hope you're happier here_. Then she frowned. The monkey was sitting on the boots… so why weren't they being moved by his weight? Unless… unless someone was already inside those boots…

"The pey-men' is feer." Tia's voice pulled Squirrel back to the discussion in the room.

Will pulled something from his belt and held it up for Tia's inspection. "We're looking for this," He said, spreading the square of oilcloth out on the table.

All the light and frivolity vanished from Tia's face as she looked at the drawing of the key. Her entire body was rigid; she sat down on the tall chair behind her very slowly, not once removing her eyes from the drawing.

Squirrel was suddenly gripped with a terrible feeling. _She knows what this is. And not just from legend. She -knows- it_. The voodoo witch may have well been playing War, or poker, or some other game. Squirrel knew what would happen next, what card she would play.

_You'll bluff_, Squirrel challenged silently, _or fold and walk away_.

Tia stared at the key, her eyes roving around its shape on the oilcloth, before she turned a predatory gaze to the captain.

"Did deh compass you barter from me not be helpin' ye find dis?" She said, her voice cold and harsh. Squirrel nodded slightly to herself. Tia was bluffing by challenging what cards Jack might play. She'd seen this many times, in Tortuga and in ports all over - out-smart your opponent, make him tip his hand once. Just once, and that's all it takes. But, Jack got his compass from Tia Dalma? How? And what payment had he offered? Squirrel looked sidelong at her captain, blushing a little.

Jack - playing with a strange feathered hat - shrugged with affected nonchalance. "Maybe." He said.

"Ah," amusement slid into Tia's voice, and she sat back in her chair like a little girl with a secret. Grinning, she mused, "Jack Sparra doesn' know what he wan's!" Then she paused, then added with a coy smile. "Or, he know what he want… but is loath to claim it fer 'is own…" Tia smiled, her eyes sweeping the room, before meeting Squirrel's briefly.

Squirrel quickly composed her face, trying to hide the surprise she felt, but was certain that the voodoo witch had seen what she was thinking. _You're more than just a player in this game, aren't you, Tia Dalma? You're probably the only one who knows the rules. And on top of that_, Squirrel added silently, looking sidelong at Jack, who was slipping something into his pocket, I_'m not the only one who knows how to read people. But Tia can read Jack Sparrow?_ _Interesting… and unexpected_. Squirrel looked back at Tia Dalma, waiting to see the next play. Tia's move.

"Your key go to-a chest," Tia said, brisk all of a sudden. "And it is what inside deh chest you seek."

Will nodded, frowning. "What is in the chest?" He asked.

"Gold?" Pintel called, both he and Gibbs leaning forward eagerly. "Jewels? Unclaimed properties of a valuable nature?"

"Nuffin… bad… I hope?" Ragetti cringed slightly, looking away from the jar of eyes near his head.

Tia swept the room with her eyes once more, a cat's smile crossing her features. "You knoo of Deevy Chones?"

Squirrel frowned. This game more and more resembled a tangled skein of yarn, twisting and turning and no-one here seemed to know the rules… except for the one who was spinning the tales.

"A greet see-lah," Tia said, settling back in her chair and waving her hand about artfully. "A man of de sea. But he fell afoul of what vexes all men."

"What vexes all men?" Will asked, eyebrow raised.

Tia laughed softly, reaching for Will's hand. "What… indeed?"

"Well, the sea!" Gibbs put in, with the air of a man who knows what he's talking about.

"Sums," Pintel countered, with the air of a man sorely vexed.

"The dichotomy of good and evil." Ragetti said firmly. All turned to look at him, incredulous. But Squirrel - though surprised by such a fellow offering the opinion - silently agreed. _It's always a hard thing to define_. She looked to Jack, who was - once more - slipping something into his coat pocket, and sighed softly

The captain rolled his eyes. "A woman," he said, irritated, then looked over at Squirrel, his eyes locking on her unintentionally. Squirrel held her head high, but blushed nevertheless.

"No, no," Gibbs frowned, scissoring the air with one hand, "I heard it was the sea."

Tia looked at Gibbs as though her were a fool. "Same story, different versions," She snapped, "An' all are true! See, it was a wo-mahn," her hand brushed the air close to her chest, indicating… what? Womanhood in general? "… as harsh, and as chan-jing, as deh sea." Tia turned her attention back to Will with a small smile. "'e fall in love… and him never stop lovin' 'er."

Will squirmed slightly, his eyes going distant. Squirrel found herself fingering her medallion, her fingers brushing not only the smooth-worn edges of the silver coin, but the rough iron core of the spent bullet that had been meant for Jack Sparrow.

Tia's eyes turned back to Gibbs. "But dat love brou' him pain. Pain dat wa' too much to live wid… but not enough to cause 'im to die." Was it Squirrel's imagination, or were Tia's eyes softening with sadness too? "But him never stop lovin' 'er."

"That's so romantic." Squirrel said softly, uncaring that all faces turned her way. Tia looked amused, tilting her head at Squirrel as though studying her.

_Fine._ _Read me, witch_, Squirrel thought, dropping the amulet from her fingers, _It's not as though you'll find anything interesting_.

"So what is in the chest?" Will asked, bringing the attention back to the game at hand.

Tia turned back to him, and patted her hand across her chest, smiling with the knowledge of a sibyl. "Him heart."

Ragetti screwed up his face. "Literally… or figuratively?"

Pintel scoffed at his friend. "'E didn't actually cut the real heart right out of 'is chest…" He paused, and looked back at Tia, alarmed. "… Did 'e?"

Tia turned lazy feline eyes in Squirrel's direction. "It was not worth de small, fleeting joy dat life could bring," her hand and head danced to a slow, silent rhythm. "So he cut oot him heart, lock away in deh ches' an' hide it frum de world." She looked back to Will. "An' deh key 'e keep wid 'im at all times."

Will stood up, fuming, and turned to Jack. "You knew this all along."

"I did not," Jack said, calm and unreadable as he had ever been, "I didn't know where the key was. And now we do, so alls we need to do is go and fetch it and you can go back to your bonnie lass, ey?" He snapped his fingers, and turned as if to go. Even Squirrel felt a twinge at Jack's nonchalance - the captain was hiding something.

Tia stood up, a rising wave in a stormy sea. "Let me see yore han'."

Jack turned, wearing a fool's grin - he waved his right hand, but Tia was not placated. With a resigned look on his face, he held out his left hand to the witch. It was, Squirrel noted with some surprise, bandaged.

_He was wrapping it in a rag that night_, she recalled, a detail she had dismissed as unimportant during his cries for 'movement'. Tia unwrapped that bandage now, revealing a dark stain in Jack's palm. A dark stain with small tendrils, like some sea-fern or mould.

"The black spot!" Gibbs yelped, wiping himself, twirling awkwardly on the spot, and spitting. Ragetti and Pintel followed his example. Will and Squirrel just looked at the captain, startled and alarmed.

"My eyesight's good as ever, just so you know!" Jack said, trying to deflect attention from himself. He looked at Squirrel, and shrugged apologetically.

Tia sighed, irritated, and turned and went behind a screen, muttering to herself and calling to something. Squirrel reached across the table, over the bat-candlesticks, and held Jack's left hand in both of hers. She peered at this so-called 'black spot'. It was a death-sentence for pirates, she knew that. But to see one for real… She brushed it with a finger, and recoiled when it moved. It was organic, alive… and quite squishy. Like a sponge, or an anemone.

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" She said, looking up at Jack with undisguised concern. Jack just shrugged and pulled his hand away from her, looking awkward. Squirrel looked at him for a few moments more, before she withdrew her hands, hiding them under her cloak like she was an anemone herself. Jack looked aside, making sure no-one was watching - uncaring if Squirrel saw or not - then reached down to the table and picked up a ring. He slid it onto the thumb of his 'infected' hand. Squirrel sighed, but didn't say anything - why bother? Jack would have taken it anyway. Then her own eye was caught by the glisten of gold. On the table was a beautiful amulet. A heart-shaped thing made from finely-wrought gold. It would be so easy to just reach out as Jack did… but it would not be right. This belonged to Tia, surely. Besides… Squirrel already had an amulet.

_And I'm a pirate, not a thief_.

"Deevy Chones cannot make port," Tia said, coming up and standing next to Squirrel, a large jar in her arms. "Cannot set foot on land but once every ten year. Lan' is where you are seefe, Jack Sparrow." She held out the jar to Jack, "An' so lan' you will take wid you." Jack awkwardly reached out and lifted the jar from Tia's hands. He studied it for a moment - everyone did, wondering what magical gift Tia Dalma had bestowed upon Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Dirt," Jack said finally. "This is a jar of dirt."

Tia's expression did not change. "Yehs…" She said, as though wondering why such a question would be asked.

Jack looked at the jar he held. "Is the jar of dirt going to help?"

"If you don' want it," Tia said, her voice silky, "Give it back."

Jack frowned and clutched it closer to his chest. "No," he said, like a boy told to surrender a stick of sugarcane.

Tia gave a cat-like smile. "Den it helps."

Will sat back down as Jack clutched his jar of dirt close. "It seems," Will said, "That we have a need to find the _Flying Dutchman_."

Tia gave a small bow as she crossed the floor and sat down behind her table once more. With both hands, she gathered up her crab claws, and breathed on them. "A touch… of dehstiny!" The claws bounced and scattered across the table, coming to rest in strange patterns.

Squirrel squinted at the claws, doubting her own eyes. For a moment, she thought she'd seen - over the image of the claws - lines, like the kind drawn on yellowed paper. Lines which denoted latitude and longitude. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, while Tia muttered and laughed to herself softly. Something flickered in the candlelight, a shadow on the table, moving towards the claws Tia had thrown. But when Squirrel focused her eyes, the shadow was… gone.

_Probably a moth flying in the way of the light_, Squirrel thought, trying to calm her suddenly panicked heart. _A shadow. It's nothing_. She tried to breathe slowly, to bring her fluttering heartbeat under control. Why had her heart started beating like that?

"Ye seel for dese waters," Tia said, indicating with a wave of the hand the scattered crab claws. She said the name of a certain part of the sea, but in Tia's accent it was lost to Squirrel. "Dere, you fin' deh _Flyin' Dutch-maan_." She paused, then added in a warning tone, "Be seefe. Sometimes deh sharks aren't oonly in deh water." She smiled, and motioned with one hand that it was time for the crew to leave.

Squirrel hung back, looking over her shoulder once more at the monkey. He seemed remarkably well-behaved; he'd hardly even made a sound this whole time. And he hadn't moved once.

Squirrel turned back to find Tia standing next to her, grinning her inky smile. Squirrel stepped back, wary. "W-What?" Tia just looked at Squirrel thoughtfully, amused for some reason. Squirrel blushed and turned to leave.

"You 'ave a mark about you, ghel," Tia said softly, her voice whispering like waves on the shoreline. "A mark dat ties you to deh Jack." She made a strange sound in her throat, half a laugh and half a purr, then tilted her head to one side, considering Squirrel with all seriousness. "Would you laike to know your naime?"

Squirrel's heart skipped a beat. "M-more than any-anything," she breathed, before she could stop herself.

Tia's smile widened, then vanished as she turned her attention back to the crab claws scattered on the table. "Den you mus' wait for a time. A greet pain will come, an' den you will remember. Dat's all I ken see."

Squirrel felt cheated. "Is that it?" She scoffed, indignant. "Some vague promise?"

"If you wan' more," Tia said calmly, "Den why don' you do deh searchin' yerself?" She looked flatly at Squirrel. "You an' I be nearly deh same, aye?"

Squirrel frowned, wondering what the woman was referring to, and then she laughed. "Similar? You throw crab claws and burn feathers," she gestured to a still-smoking brazier in the corner, "And I use cards and dice." Squirrel banished her smile. "Only thing is, I don't p-pretend it's something m-mystical or strange."

"Readin' people - as you call it - en't strenge?" Tia asked smoothly, one eyebrow raised. "Knowin' de outcome of a game before it even to begin, en't strenge?"

Squirrel's blush deepened. "I have to go."_ Don't pretend you know me_…

"I saw you," Tia said absently. "You look at deh Jack and you feel it."

"Feel what?" Squirrel said, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer.

"Deh t'rill of fete."

Squirrel frowned, trying to puzzle out the woman's accent. "The trill of fate?"

"Deh t'rill of fete." Tia looked irritated for a moment. "Wedder a song or a shiver, you know of what I speak." She gestured vaguely at Squirrel's arm. "Fire and metal's what holds ye to deh Jack. You bear deh scars, chil'."

Squirrel gripped her right arm, alarmed. No-one could have seen that. She wore long sleeves and hid under a cloak. Tia could not have seen those burns. She could not have known… There was no way…!

"A tie to deh Jack, aye?" Tia smiled gently, as a mother smiles to a daughter, but Squirrel would not be comforted here.

She turned and fled, trying to keep calm but failing.

**

* * *

A/N:** Thanks for reading, reviews make me happy. I'm thinking about going back and making the first chapter a bit more detailed. Yes, no? 


	6. Helpless

**Disclaimer**: Writing fanfiction but not getting in any trouble? Yep. I'm good with it.

**A/N**: My mum did a beta read of this, and she had a witty comment I thought I'd share with you all. But, I've forgotten it. And it was really funny! Gar. Stupid memory processes. But here's the chapter anyway.

* * *

The night was quiet and still, and a gentle breeze moved the _Pearl_ ever onwards to her goal. It was Squirrel's watch, and she sat in the crow's nest, alone, staring out at the inky blackness of the distance. From here, in the dark, it was impossible to say where the horizon was. Sky and sea were blended. Sky and sea were one. 

Squirrel shivered slightly, and drew her cloak around her a little tighter. She didn't mind the night watches. She'd spent all of her life in Tortuga working at night. Keeping watch on the _Black Pearl_ made no difference to her routine.

Besides, the night was quieter. And she had time alone with her thoughts.

Will Turner's arrival on the _Pearl_ had been a nice surprise. It was unusual to find a man of his quality at sea. Or anywhere, for that matter. Such a gentleman. Elizabeth Swann was so lucky to have a man as honourable and devoted as William Turner.

_If only the same could be said for me and Jack_.

Squirrel squirmed slightly, blaming her movement on pins and needles rather than any other kind of discomfort.

Jack was a pirate. Always had been, always will be. Freedom was what he held dear. That had been one of the reasons Squirrel had been attracted to him. Jack Sparrow went were he wanted, when he wanted. His was a life of freedom; a life Squirrel had always wished for. For Squirrel, Jack was everything she could have ever wanted, a symbol of everything she'd ever dreamed of. His roguishly handsome looks didn't hurt none either.

Squirrel smiled slightly, blushing even more so.

There was also that mystery about him. The way he was so unreadable, unpredictable. It had made Squirrel curious. Curiosity to know why and how Jack Sparrow kept his secrets was another reason she'd followed him.

Ah, but that was half a lie. Squirrel smiled to herself, remembering. Sharky had come to her with the promise of escape - finally, a ship that would take her from Tortuga! - and Squirrel, battered, broken and desperate, had taken it. She hadn't even known she would be leaving aboard the _Black Pearl_ with Captain Jack Sparrow until she was nearly at the docks. But by then it didn't matter. She was free.

But, then… Squirrel bit her lip, looking up at the starless sky. She had been dreaming of it, hadn't she? She'd always wanted to leave with Jack, to be with him and find happiness there. She'd dreamed of being swept off her feet and sailing with that pirate, having adventures on the open sea… Before she'd even left the dock she'd foiled an assassination attempt, been saved from drowning, and given her uncle a dunking. That was quite an adventure in itself!

She laughed softly under her breath, then the laugh faded into a sigh.

She loved Jack Sparrow. It would be stupid to deny it. She loved everything about him: his unpredictability, his charm, his swagger, his gold-toothed smile… It was a one-sided affair, but still. She lacked the bravery to speak to his face, the courage to speak her heart. But she still loved that pirate captain, for whatever reason.

Squirrel slowly pulled herself to her feet and looked down. Cotton was at the helm, alert and keeping course, but his parrot was asleep and dreaming, head tucked under a wing.

Squirrel looked up. The sky was inky and starless, and the only light came from the ship's lamps; a feeble and poor comparison. The wind - stronger now - plucked at Squirrel's hair and cloak as it hurried past her to fill the sails.

_The weather is changing_, she thought to herself. _69 percent of a chance of rain_. Slowly, she climbed down out of the crow's nest and slithered down the ropes. With soft leather-soled feet, she padded across the deck, as silent as the ghost of the Grey Lady.

How many times had she done this? How many times had she stood on the deck of the _Pearl_ in the middle of her watch and stared at the captain's cabin? How many times had she stared at the door, wondering, trying to build up the courage?

_Tonight I'll do it_, she thought, _If the weather can change, so can I_. And then, a second thought galvanised her. _If Will can cross the Caribbean to find a way to save his fiancée, why can't I just cross the deck of a ship?_ Taking a breath, Squirrel moved softly through the near-darkness until she stood at Jack's door. She brushed back her hair, adjusted her cloak, and bit her lip. Then she raised a gently shaking hand and balled it into a fist.

_Captain, I know I've never been… Captain, I just wanted to thank you… You saved my life, Jack and… I don't know how to put this…_ A thousand and one phrases came into mind, all of them jumbled and incomplete.

She'd done this nearly every night since Jack had saved her. She'd stood at Jack's doorway, hand raised to knock, but she'd never been able to.

_You don't have to say you love him_, Squirrel reminded herself, _Just say 'thankyou'. Thank him for getting you out of Tortuga. Thank him for setting you free_.

Still, she hesitated, her fist inches from the wood. Scenarios of Jack's mocking laughter or harsh words played out in her mind's eye.

_Don't be stupid. That's not what will happen. Just say 'thankyou'_.

Squirrel took a deep, shaky breath… and lowered her hand.

"Stupid." She whispered, turning away. She crossed the deck until she reached the railing, and looked out at the inky blackness of the sea. The wind grew a little stronger, its hands heaving at the sails and tugging at Squirrel's hair and clothes. _75 percent. 82 percent_. The storm grew ever nearer.

Squirrel wiped at her face, feeling the first few drops of rain. She stared at her fingers, and her heart gave a dull thud in her chest. This wasn't rain she was holding. And her hands were blurred and out-of-focus.

_Am I crying?_ She touched her cheeks, and found tears rolling down them. She blinked, trying to force them away, but they kept coming. She stared down at her hands, and a few tears were captured in hr open palms.

"Stupid," Squirrel said again, though this time with less conviction.

As the storm rolled in, she stared at the artificial starlight that glistened in her hands.

* * *

The rain fell in heavy sheets and waves boiled and raged like barely-tethered beasts. Will stood at the railing, peering out through the rain. Gibbs and Jack stood just behind him. All three men were looking at the ship, half-submerged on the rocks ahead. None of them seemed to mind the rain. Squirrel, her hood down and her cloak wrapped tight around her, stood further back than any of them, leaning against the mast and trying to keep herself dry. 

"That's the _Flying Dutchman_?" Will asked over his shoulder, incredulous. Squirrel couldn't help but agree. Those rocks were bloody obvious, even in a storm. What kind of fool would risk sailing anywhere near them? Maybe Davy Jones wasn't such a 'greet see-lah' as Tia had said. _Or…_ Squirrel suddenly felt the knife-twist of alarm_, Is that really the _Flying Dutchman

"Aye, a veritable jewel of the sea." Jack said, smiling. There was a pause, and then Jack elbowed Gibbs in the stomach.

"Must've run afoul of the reef," Gibbs said, in a half-cough.

Squirrel frowned at the back of Jack's head. _What are you hiding, Jack Sparrow?_

Will merely shrugged. "She doesn't look like much."

"Neither do you," Jack said, slapping Will on the shoulder. "Do not underestimate her." He tilted his head to one side. "So, you got a plan?"

"I go aboard, search the ship until I find your bloody key," Will said, sounding peeved.

"And if someone tries to stop you?"

Will scowled through the rain, and pushed away from the railing. "I cut down anyone in my path."

"I like it," Jack said with forced nonchalance. "Simple, easy to remember." He turned out to look at the sea, while Gibbs walked to the helm, scrumptiously rubbing his stomach.

Will crossed the deck, wiping water from his eyes. The longboat was ready for him.

Squirrel moved forward from her place under the mast. "Will?" She held out a small linen pouch to him. She'd sewn it herself, many weeks ago in one of the days where there was not much to do. She was proud of it - it was good workmanship, if she did say so herself. She'd always been handy with a needle and thread.

Will stopped, and genteelly accepted it from her. "What is it?" He asked, hefting it in one hand.

"It m-might come in handy," she said, her voice nearly lost over the hiss of the rain and the waves. She gave a shrug, made a small - almost apologetic - smile that Will returned, though his smile was far warmer and more genuine. He made to turn away, but Squirrel impulsively reached out and grabbed his arm. "Will, I…" She paused, licking her lips, not knowing how to phrase what she wanted to say.

_Something's not right here. Be careful, please. You have Elizabeth, waiting for you back at Port Royal, and a life ahead of you that I both envy and wish you happiness in. Something's not right, so please, please, for all our sakes, be careful. Something is not right._

She looked back over the deck, where Jack stood. He was looking over at Squirrel curiously, frowning slightly; he evidently didn't see her face towards him from under that hood of hers. As Squirrel watched, Jack looked back over the sea, not at the ship, but scanning the horizon, his left hand held up to eye-level. It looked as though he were gauging the direction of the wind, but… with the palm of his hand towards him. The black spot stood out starkly to Squirrel's eyes, even in the darkness of the storm.

_Your hand is unsteady and the game is against you, Jack Sparrow. But you still have something up your sleeve, don't you?_

Will waited patiently, his head tilted curiously, the small pouch in one hand. Finally, Squirrel sighed, releasing Will's sleeve.

"Just… be careful," she said, her eyes locking on his. "Not everything is as it seems."

Will nodded at her, acknowledging her advice, though his eyes were just as perplexed as when Tia Dalma had spoken to him. Squirrel didn't blame him; the advice had been cryptic, even to hr own ears. Squirrel followed behind Will as he crossed to the longboat, and smiled when she saw him carefully tie the small bag she'd given him to his belt before climbing down into the boat.

"Your chariot awaits you, sire!" Ragetti cackled, holding a lantern for him. The rest of the crew crowded to the railing to watch Will's departure. Squirrel dug her fingernails into the wood, her heart racing. Would Will be able to cross those waves in that little boat? Surely he'd be flipped over, forced into the sea.

She looked up, and the image of Tia's crab claws superimposed themselves over her vision. The shadow from the candlelight… The shadow was coming…

"Oi!" Jack called down, "If you get in trouble, just tell them that Jack Sparrow sent you to settle his debt. Might save your life!"

Will pushed off, his face determined. His boat seemed to be pitifully small and weak against the might of the waves. But he rowed none-the-less, and the tiny vessel held together.

_Be safe, William_, Squirrel thought, biting her lip.

"Douse the lamps."

Squirrel looked sideways, alarmed. Jack's voice had been so subtle, so deadpan … it was frightening. But what was even more frightening was the order that he had given.

"Douse the l-lamps?" Squirrel move to her captain's side. "Are you mad? How w-will Will be able to find his w-way b-back?"

Jack's eyes turned to her, and Squirrel was struck by the strangeness in them - it was as though all the light-heartedness and the feigned drunkenness was gone. All that was there now was steel. Cold hard steel.

"I believe I just gave an order, Miss Grey."

Squirrel drew back, shaking her head in denial, then looked back out over the water. A small yellow light bobbed in the waves, making good progress despite the storm. Will's longboat would soon reach the _Flying Dutchman_. And Jack's bloody key.

One by one, the lights on the Pearl died, and Squirrel was left squinting through the rain at the tiny light dancing in the wild water, her heart in her throat.

Jack drew out a telescope and focused it on the distance. "I noticed you happened to give Will a parting gift," he said conversationally. "You fancy the lad?"

"Don't be absurd," Squirrel snapped, though she kept her voice low. She shuffled almost imperceptibly to her right, moving slightly away from Jack. Either because of her earlier feelings - or perhaps because of this strange, unknown fear - she didn't feel comfortable standing too close to Jack Sparrow.

A gust of wind shook the sails, and droplets fell around the pair of them. Squirrel lifted her hood slightly, not taking her eyes from Will's light but scanning the sky. "The storm's ending," she noted, unsurprised. Tropical storms, though furious, often burned themselves out quickly.

"Good," Jack said, still squinting through the telescope. "Oh, look," he said, in the same tone with which he had presented Tia with the monkey, "Young Will's made it safely to that ship. Good on him."

"'That ship'?" Squirrel turned to look at Jack. "You mean, that isn't the _Flying Dutchman_?"

Jack lowered the telescope slightly. "Maybe."

Squirrel frowned. Suddenly, there were knots in her stomach. Something isn't right here. "Jack," she said, breathing slowly in order to control her stammer, "Why have you sent Will alone? Why didn't you send some of us with him?"

"Because, luv," Jack said, a trifle patronisingly, "I need all of us on the _Pearl_ to keep her steady."

"I don't believe you," Squirrel said in a measured tone.

Jack shrugged, looking sidelong at her. "Your choice, luv." He held the telescope back to his eye.

"And you didn't answer m-my question, either."

Jack didn't answer. Squirrel turned back to glare at the sea, which was gradually calming. There was a will-o-wisp dancing in the dark ship ahead - Will's lantern. The rain still fell in heavy sheets over that wreck, but above the Pearl, the only rain was the water dripping from the black canvas and rigging.

"He won't be able to s-see us," Squirrel said, half to herself. "We're a black ship with black sails, in the middle of a black ocean on a black night. He won't be able to come back." There was a long silence. Squirrel slowly turned her eyes back to the kohl-eyed captain beside her. "You don't mean for Will to come back, do you." She made it a statement, an accusation.

"Course I do," Jack said, but his voice was distracted, a bare whisper. Squirrel watched him for a moment - he wasn't watching Will through that telescope. He was scanning the turbulent sea.

"You didn't tell us about your black spot," Squirrel said, raising her voice fractionally, "You didn't tell us about the Kraken, you didn't tell us about Davy Jones. What else are you hiding from us?"

"Ssh!" Jack hissed, dropping the telescope from his eye to glare at Squirrel. "Do not give us away, luv."

"Give us away?" Squirrel frowned. "To whom?" She looked out at the sea, angry and stubborn.

The shadow from the candle had vanished from Tia Dalma's table. But here, in the sea, it did not.

A ship, huge and majestic and yet somehow terrible, burst from out of the waves, rising with some dark purpose. Squirrel gasped, shot through with some terrible feeling, some premonition, some animal instinct which told her that this was unnatural, otherworldly, _dangerous_. Her gasp turned to a whimper, and then her mouth widened and her voice rose into the prelude of a scream…

Jack clapped his hand over Squirrel's mouth and held her close. "Do NOT give us away, I said!" He hissed in her ear. Squirrel struggled slightly, her wide eyes locked on that dark and terrible ship, whimpering into Jack's hand. "I'm going to let you go," Jack told her, "On the condition that you do not scream. Deal?"

Squirrel nodded, swallowing her voice, and Jack released her. She was aware she was blushing, panicked at having Jack hold her so, but it was nothing compared to the panic she felt at the sight of that strange ship. And it had burst from the depths like the devil himself…

"The_ Flying Dutchman_." She breathed, shaking.

"Aye," Jack said, taking the telescope from under his arm and putting put back up to his eye. "That's the one."

Squirrel would have turned to Jack, to argue about Will's safety and Jack's lies, but her eyes were locked on that point of light that denoted Will's position. _Please be safe, William_!

Suddenly, that light was shattered, turning into a sword of flame which flailed and scythed through the rain. Squirrel gave a cry, quickly smothering it with a hand. "What's going on?" She asked Jack. "What's happening?" She wanted to tug at Jack's sleeve to get his attention, but didn't want to touch him - she knew her hands and her face would burn.

"Will's fighting a few of Davy's boys," Jack said darkly. On hearing Squirrel's strangled cry, he added, "Don't worry, luv. He'll be fine. Young Turner's a brilliant swordsman. For a eunuch." He grinned under the telescope, but, as Squirrel watched, that smile faded. Likewise, across the distance, did the sword of light.

"What?" Squirrel cried, then remembered to lower her voice. "What happened?" She squinted over the blackness, through the dying rain, trying to see something, anything.

Jack didn't move. "Now's the time to wait, luv," he said gently. "Wait and see." With his eye to the telescope, he would say nothing else.

Squirrel looked out at the sea again, feeling helpless.


	7. Bargains and Gambles

**Disclaimer**: "Pirates!" "Or worse…"

**A/N**: One really big chapter this time. Yay for Davy Jones! … and as of today, I have seen POTC2 five times. In the movies itself. Heheh I can't wait for the DVD.

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Her hands moved restlessly, tapping the railing softly, anxiously. In the dark of night, she pushed her hood back, trying to get a clearer view of what was happening on that wrecked ship. There was no lantern now, no means of divining what was happening. Only Jack Sparrow, with his telescope, could truly see. And he was merely watching silently, as uncharacteristically still as stone.

Squirrel pulled at her hair, shaking it free from its biding, and pulling strands of it through her fingers. She tried to keep calm, but the motions of her fingers betrayed her. Was Will alright? Had he been hurt? Was he in danger? Was he even still alive?

She paused a moment, and looked over her shoulder at Jack, her hair falling free around her shoulders. Squirrel had never looked at her captain with suspicion before, but there was a first time for everything.

_I can't read him_.

A soft and sinuous breeze played at her hair, pulling it out in wisps. Water dripped at her feet from her sodden cloak; Squirrel pushed it off her shoulders restlessly.

Suddenly, Jack stiffened, now more alert than he had been previously. Squirrel watched him intently out of the corner of her eye, her face half-turned towards the ruined ship. Movement through the darkness ahead was hard to discern, but Jack could doubtless see what was happening. And something frightened him.

"'E's here." He whispered, almost to himself. Squirrel didn't need clarification. _Davy Jones_. Squirrel felt herself tensing as well, and her heart's rhythm picked up speed. She turned back to look at Jack, her mouth framing a question - a question even she didn't know. She stopped when she saw the look on his face.

Jack paused, his eye opening, then refocused the telescope. Squirrel frowned. _Something's wrong_.

"Jack?" Whatever she was going to ask was forgotten. She blinked once, and suddenly she and Jack did not stand alone on the deck.

Davy Jones in all his glory appeared a mere arm's-length from her. It was as though he had risen from the deck of the ship itself. He didn't see Squirrel, though he stood practically beside her - his fury was focused entirely on Jack Sparrow. Squirrel strangled a gasp at the sight of the thing… of the legend… of the man. The man who was feared second only to the Devil himself. The man who captained the _Flying Dutchman_ and sent many men to their graves. The man who commanded the Kraken to do his bidding. The man who was more sea-creature than human being.

_The man who had loved a woman so dearly that he had cut out his heart to escape the pain. _

Her musings and amazement were cut short - Squirrel felt a cold scaly arm slide around her waist and a hand close around her throat. Panicked with fear, she froze, unable to speak or move. The creature who held her smelled of the sea and of decay, and it's breath in her ear was paralysing.

"Don't move," Squirrel's captor growled. Squirrel obeyed, but out of instinct rather than will. Her eyes - the only part of her that could move - focused on the two captains. Davy Jones and Jack Sparrow.

Jack surveyed the scene - his crew captured in an instant by creatures more _creature_ than human and the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ scowling at him. He lowered the telescope and offered a sheepish, "Oh."

"You have a debt t' pay, Jack Sparrow," Davy Jones growled, his voice deep with a Scottish accent. "You owe me your soul." He marched forward, a wooden leg thump-thump-thumping across the deck as he marched towards Jack, who continued to back away. "You've been captain of the _Black Pearl_ for thirteen years! That was our agreement!"

"Technically," Jack said, trying to hold his ground and protesting at the indignity of his situation, "I was only captain for two years before I was _viciously_ mutinied upon."

Jack's plea and puppy-eyes had no effect on the tentacle-bearded Jones. "Then you were a poor captain but a captain none-the-less. Have you not always introduced yourself as," he turned a half-circle, announcing mockingly, "'Captain Jack Sparrow'?"

Davy's crew, including Squirrel's unseen captor, laughed harshly. Squirrel looked to Jack, wondering how he was going to talk his way out of this one. Wondering, if he even could.

"You already have my payment," Jack said smoothly. "One soul to serve on your ship? He's already over there!"

Squirrel drew in breath sharply, shocked. _No! He and Elizabeth were going to hang for you! And you promised to help them!_ She would have cried out if her captor had not tightened his hold on both her waist and her throat - she fell into indignant and angry silence, blushing all the while.

Davy Jones shook his head, amused and apathetic. "One soul is not equal to another."

"Aha!" Jack grinned. "So we've established my proposal as sound in principle, and now we're just haggling over price."

Davy pulled back, amused. "Price?" He made a popping sound with his lips, clearly unimpressed.

Squirrel couldn't see Jack's face, but she could guess his expression: smug and self-assured. "How many souls do you think my soul is worth?" He said, his voice low.

_Oh, please!_ Squirrel half-scowled. _The Pelegostas thought you were a god, and now you're trying to find out how many men have to die in order to equal your death?_ Squirrel felt disgusted. Not only had Jack just betrayed a friend who had trusted him, he was still trying to save his own skin at any cost. _This isn't you, Jack. Please. Tell me this isn't you. Tell me you have some plan to save Will and keep your promise_…

Her thoughts were suddenly forgotten - Davy Jones eyes lit on Squirrel, and held her gaze. His eyes widened for a moment, clearly shocked. There was a woman aboard this ship? And there was no denying it - she'd pushed back her cloak and freed her hair. Squirrel tried to keep her gaze carefully neutral, not wanting to show fear… but…

She wasn't afraid. Not of Davy Jones. Rather, she pitied him, almost sympathised with him. _You suffered for love's sake. So does Will. So do __I._ Almost unconsciously, Squirrel's face - still pink - was taking on an awed and respectful expression. An expression that most likely was not on the faces of the men who had ever faced Davy Jones.

The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ tore his eyes away from Squirrel. "One hundred souls," he said, his voice a trifle softer. His eyes flicked briefly back to Squirrel - like iron to a lodestone - then smugly back to Jack. "Three days."

Jack seemed to almost laugh. "You're a diamond, mate!" He turned away from Davy and made to swagger to the railing. "Just send the boy back over and we'll get started."

Squirrel felt her captor move from her - the hand around her throat vanished and the hand around her waist tightened like an iron band around her arm instead. Squirrel caught a glimpse of the thing which had held her - a hammerhead's skull and lobster appendages sprouting from his back - as this thing stepped in Jack's path and snarled. Jack looked alarmed, and glanced at Squirrel, who was still in the shark-man's grip. What was he looking for? Support? After what he'd just done? Squirrel said and did nothing, but her eyes held Jack's and silently accused him.

"I keep the boy," Davy Jones said calmly, his voice carrying clear across the deck, "As a good-faith payment. That means you only have ninety-nine more to go!" He laughed again, and his crew laughed with him.

Jack turned from Squirrel, marching back to Davy Jones. "Have you not met Will Turner?" He said, with the air of a man selling wares in a marketplace, "He's noble, heroic, terrific soprano…"

Squirrel rolled her eyes slightly as the shark-man's hand closed around her throat again. _Joke's getting old, Jack_.

Jack continued his spiel, "Worth at least four. Maybe three-and-a-half."

_You're bargaining with someone else's life!_ Squirrel was outraged. _Why don't you bet your own?_

_Because_, a practical and unhappy voice reminded her, _Jack will always keep that out of play. It's too valuable to him_.

"And did I mention," Jack said, his voice a purr, "That 'e's in love?"

That had Davy's attention. His eyes snapped to Jack; he was listening intently.

"Wiv a girl," Jack said, circling like a shark, "Engaged to be married. Betrothed. Dividing him from her and her from him is only half as cruel as allowing them to be joined in holy matrimony, ey?" He stood at Davy's shoulder, waiting, waiting…

Jack's words seemed to have a strange effect on Davy. Even from where she stood, Squirrel swore she could see tears in the captain's eyes. His beautiful blue eyes - the only part of him which was still human. Everything else was of the sea. His left hand was a crab claw, his right hand was dominated by a tentacle, and his beard was nothing but; even his very clothes seemed to be sewn from kelp and held together by barnacles. But his eyes - his sky-blue eyes - retained humanity. And Squirrel couldn't help but feel another stab of pity for him.

But then that feeling passed as Davy turned his back to her and faced Jack. "I keep the boy. Ninety-nine souls." He almost looked over his shoulder, but caught himself. "But I wonder, Sparrow," Davy continued, "Can you live with this? Can you condemn an innocent man - a friend, even - to a lifetime of servitude in your name while you roam free?" He tilted his head, waiting. Jack paused, appearing lost in thought.

Squirrel looked to her captain, wide-eyed. _Please, Jack. Tell me you have some plan so get Will back. Please… I know you're a good man, deep down. You wouldn't just leave him_.

"Yep," Jack grinned cheerfully, not knowing the damage he'd done to Squirrel's hopes, "I'm good wiv it." He pulled a wry grin, clearly glad to be back on top of the game. "Shall we seal in blood, or…" He shrugged, gesturing to Davy's face, "Ink?"

Davy's right hand snapped out and grabbed Jack's left. Jack whimpered in alarm as Jones' tentacled finger wrapped around his wrist, snaking around the infected palm.

"Three days," Davy Jones growled. He made to leave, but his tentacle was stuck on Jack's hand. After a few tugs it came free. Coughing slightly, trying to deny the slight loss of dignity, he turned and marched across the deck towards his ship, his wooden leg striking a heartbeat-tempo as he moved.

Squirrel felt herself being released, and her captor vanishing. But she remained where she was, frozen in place but feeling no fear, watching as Davy Jones crossed the deck. He seemed to sense her eyes on him, and half-turned to look at her.

There was no pity on that face, no sympathy in those beautiful and out-of-place eyes. Just anger and bitterness. Though, none of it was directed at her… It was as though it were directed inwards instead.

Squirrel looked briefly at Jack, who was staring at his slime-covered left hand in disgust, then turned back to Davy Jones. But he was gone. It was as though he and his crew had never been there. She rushed to the railing, hands gripping the wood, staring out at the darkness. The dark looming shape of the _Flying Dutchman_ turned, wheeling against the wind and sailing away, swallowed up by the gloom.

Squirrel felt a bitter taste in her mouth and a knot in her stomach.

"Mister Gibbs?"

"Aye, captain."

"I feel sullied and unusual…"

Squirrel hunched her shoulders against the conversation behind her, staring stubbornly out at sea. As she watched, the ship that she'd believed to be trapped on the rocks slowly started drifting. And then, slowly and without ceremony, it sank beneath the waves. As though it had been held up just long enough for the Flying Dutchman to arrive. But held up by _what_?

"How are we going to find ninety-nine souls in three days?"

"Fortunately, he was mum as to what condition those souls need be."

"Ah," Gibbs said, agreeing, " Tortuga."

Squirrel's hand clawed into the wood, her entire body stiffening. _No! NO!_

"Aye," Jack's voice was grinning and devil-may-care. " Tortuga."

Squirrel looked over her shoulder, panicked madness in her eyes. _Please, no! Anything else! Anywhere else!_

Gibbs moved off, shouting orders, and the crew scrambled to obey, leaving Jack Sparrow alone on the deck with the grey-cloaked girl.

The pirate grinned a gold-toothed grin at her, but that grin faded as he noticed the look on Squirrel's face. "What's wrong, luv?"

She faced him, made a few uncertain steps towards him, her eyes wide with panic. She wasn't stammering anymore, but her voice was strident and wavering, shaking with fear. "You cannot be serious! You can't go to Tortuga!"

"Course I can," Jack said easily, unconcerned. He examined his slime-covered hand again, frowning. "We need to meet ole fish-face's quota."

Squirrel's voice dropped to a hush. "Do you even remember who I am? Do you even remember…?" She bit her lip and turned away. "I came from Tortuga. I never want to go back. Ever." Her cloak curled back around her hunched shoulders, hiding her once more.

Jack looked vaguely amused. "Course I remember. I'm not stupid."

"Could have fooled me," Squirrel snapped, unable to meet his eyes. "It seems to me that only a stupid man would be willing to gamble away his friend's life."

"Or a desperate man," Jack said, his voice and gaze level.

Squirrel shook her head in denial, her voice rising once more. "No good man is ever that desperate!"

"Well," Jack shrugged, "Maybe I'm not a good man, ey?"

"Of course you're not. Not now at least. You've left Will to a fate that you were desperate to avoid, and you're turning this ship to _Tortuga_," Squirrel nearly screeched the word, "In order to save your slimy hide?"

"Slimy hide?" Jack's brows furrowed for a moment. "I sense you might disapprove slightly of this course of action, Miss Grey."

"Damn right I do," Squirrel said, face twisted. She turned and made to head below, but Jack's hand snapped out and grabbed her arm. "Let me go!"

"Hear me out, luv."

"No!" Squirrel pulled her arm, trying to dislodge Jack's grip, but he wouldn't let go.

His face was hard, and he looked down at her sternly. "What's gotten into you, luv?"

Squirrel stared, disgusted. "You've betrayed a friend," she snapped, "Sent him off to a fate worse than death, and now you're going to 'collect' ninety-nine more men and condemn them to that same fate!" She shook her head, "I know you're a pirate, Jack. But this… this is not…" She growled softly. "How many people have to die for you, Jack Sparrow?" She looked up at him. "You broke your promise. To both of us. Me and Will." She looked at his hand on her arm. Her right arm - the scarred and burnt arm. The scars she got from Tortuga. "Let me go."

Jack's face flexed and moved, but his hand did not; he smiled down at her. "What was in that bag you gave Will, darlin'?"

Squirrel blushed at his familiarity. "Pistachios," she said awkwardly, "Almonds, peanuts, cashews, walnuts…" She flushed a little deeper. "Just… nuts."

"Why?" Jack looked amused.

Squirrel glared at him. "Because I thought it might come in handy. And look! I was right! He's been betrayed and sent to crew a damned ship. And I doubt they'll feed him, so perhaps I've saved his life. Or what's left of it!" She tugged her arm again. "Let me go."

"You want Will to be alright, do you? Want 'im to be safe?"

There was something in Jack's tone which made Squirrel's anger build. "Only because he's your friend! Only because he saved your life! Only because there will be more deaths because of YOU if he doesn't get back! Now let go of my arm!"

Jack relented, slowly releasing her. Squirrel stared at her sleeve, disgusted. The slime from Jack's hand had soaked through her sleeve. Squirrel tugged at her sleeve, revolted, but it was stuck to her skin in the shape of Jack's hand.

"You planned this from the beginning," Squirrel said softly. "You knew Will would be captured. That's why you sent him alone." The thought was saddening, shocking. "You didn't care if he lived or died. And he was your friend. … He'd saved your life, as well. This is how you repay him?"

Jack tilted his head, looking thoughtfully at Squirrel. "You'd want to find a way to get young William back safely, then?"

"If only for your sake," Squirrel snapped.

"And what about your captain, ey?" He bent down to peer into her eyes, brown-to-brown. "Do you want to find a way to help save his life?"

Squirrel paused a moment, disoriented by the closeness of and the look in Jack's beautiful eyes.

"Because," Jack said, pulling something from his belt, "I suppose, if you want it bad enough, you could help your captain find the Chest of Davy Jones." He held the compass towards her. He looked at her, face open and eyes sincere. "What say you, luv?"

Squirrel's hand hovered slowly towards the compass. "How will this help?"

"Think about it, luv," Jack said, his voice soft. "If we have the Chest, then we have something to bargain with. We can call off Davy's beastie, and we can convince him to release young Will."

"And then you can give this to Will to save Elizabeth from the gallows."

A shadow passed over Jack's face for a moment. "Aye," he shrugged it off, "Why not? As long as we get the Chest, I don't see why not." He took Squirrel's hand in his own - how that made her redden! - and placed the compass in it, cupping her hand with both of his hands. "All you have to do," he instructed, "Is want something bad enough, and it'll show you the way." He looked at her expectantly, then opened the lid of the compass. Slowly, Jack released her hands, and stood waiting.

Squirrel watched as the dial spun and twitched. The cold metal in her hand seemed to ask her gently, _What do you want?_ And Squirrel answered, _I know what I want_.

The compass point turned forward, and did not waver. Squirrel frowned at the compass, then looked up in the direction. Jack stared back at her, a slight smile on his face. Squirrel blushed and lowered her eyes quickly.

_A tie to deh Jack_, Tia's voice seemed to laugh at her. Squirrel frowned, embarrassed. _Trust something from Tia Dalma to mock me like this_.

The compass wavered. _What do you want?_

Squirrel took a breath and tried to steady her disordered thoughts. _I want to be happy help Jack find the Chest I want Jack I want to be loved to prove I'm not useless to be happy I want to be happy with Jack for Jack to be happy for Jack to be a good man a man who keeps his promises I want to have a happy ending to live happily ever after Jack the truth love happiness finally… _The compass point was buzzing, back and forth - two points, neither one clearly defined. Squirrel shook herself and focused. _I want Jack to be a good man. I want to find the Chest of Davy Jones._

The compass locked. Squirrel turned it in her hands, but the direction was true.

"Well, luv?" Jack asked, trying not to sound anxious, "Anything?"

Squirrel frowned at the compass, then looked out over the sea. North-north-west. Was that where the Chest was hidden? She looked back down to the strange compass in her hands. A soft insistent voice, harsher than her conscience, whispered mockingly, _But is it what you want? Or, are you just hoping that when you find it, you'll get what you want?_ The compass point slid back to point at Jack again.

Squirrel shook the compass, suddenly scared. _No. I'm doing this because it's right. It's the right thing to do. And I know what I want_.

_You sure, Squirrel Grey? _

"Luv?"

The compass asked once more, _What do you want?_ And Squirrel remembered something. _In Tia Dalma's hut, she'd asked me if I wanted to remember my name, and I told her 'more than anything'_.

The compass point slid smoothly until it pointed south-east, and did not move again.

Squirrel looked at the compass, perplexed. South-east? There was nothing out there but open water. And Tortuga, where the answers to her past surely lay, was due west…

The mere thought of Tortuga was like a sudden splash of cold water. Jack was taking them all to Tortuga. To hire a crew which he would then sell to slavery in a fate worse than death. One of those innocent victims of Jack's failed integrity was William Turner… and, along with him, his fiancée Elizabeth Swann. Jack himself would get off scot-free, untouched by pangs of conscience. Pangs like the ones which were attacking Squirrel now.

She looked up at Jack and clicked the compass closed. Jack waited expectantly, but his expectant look slowly faded as the moments stretched past.

"I can't help you," she said softly. "Not without knowing you'll keep your promise."

"You have my word, luv," Jack said smoothly, impatiently. "Once we find the Chest we'll save Will, save Elizabeth, and then we'll be laughing. Savvy?"

Squirrel looked at the compass once more before she held it back out to Jack. "Your word's not good enough." She paused, then added a genuine, "I'm s-sorry."

Jack took the compass with a disheartened sigh. He looked at her, his eyes catching the starlight. "You sure you won't help me?"

Before she could stop them, the words were out of her mouth. "I'd do anything for you, Jack Sparrow. I'd even sail to the ends of the earth and beyond." At Jack's raised eyebrow, she ducked her head and focused on the toes of her boots. "But I can't do this if I can't trust you to keep your word."

"I see." His voice was neutral, but was there disapproval there?

Squirrel knew she was bright red, but she tried to regain a little dignity. "If you'll excuse m-me, I have to make myself s-scarce before we reach T-T-T-Tortuga."

"Don't let me stop you," Jack said, turning away, brooding under a dark cloud.

Squirrel watched him go, and flinched when the door to his cabin slammed. Then she sighed, pulled her hood back over her hair, and made to go below.

Hated or not, Tortuga was a port. And ports meant there was a chance to restock and resupply. She headed for her cabin for ink, a quill pen, and some paper. She wanted to have an inventory report ready for Gibbs before the _Pearl_ even neared that cursed pirate den. And she tried not to think of that compass, but her thoughts turned to it anyway.

Three directions. One to Jack, her heart's desire. One to the Chest of Davy Jones, to a bargaining chip in a game where she barely knew the rules. And the third direction… unknown, but with Tia's promise of pain, and of a name remembered… Which one to take?

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**A/N**: Oooh! Compass-induced angst! More soon, reviews are always welcome. Also, I will update the opening chapter. I'll let you know when that's ready. Coming next - STEALTH. Yes. Indeed.


	8. Inventory

**Disclaimer**: I think we've held fire for long enough!

**A/N**: I was going to update much sooner… I wrote this chapter, but then, startled by someone invading my personal space, I closed without saving. So… that made me angry. And sad. So I had to start again. Forgiveness! Also, you may recognise something from the latter half of this chapter, if you've read the other Squirrel stories. Yee.

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When Squirrel rose from below-decks a few hours later, the jaunty tune she'd been humming to distract herself died in her throat.

Tortuga. They'd arrived.

Squirrel moved softly over to the rails and looked out over the town. _I'm back_.

"Miss Grey!"

Squirrel turned to the slightly-concerned face of Gibbs. She smiled to mask her trembling. "G-good evening! I've the inventory p-p-prepared," she said, holding a sheaf of papers out towards him. "Everything w-we need."

Gibbs shook his head. "I won't be organising the restocking of the ship this time, Miss. It'll be Cotton and the new lads this time. I'm going with Jack."

"Ah," Squirrel nodded, her voice low and angry. "You'll be doing inventory of a different sort, then?"

A slightly anguished look crossed Gibbs' face for a moment. "Don't be like that, Miss Grey. Please."

Squirrel looked sideways and down, pinking. "I'm sorry."

Gibbs sighed, then looked out over the town. "Well," he said, almost awkwardly, "Best get started. The night's young, but that won't last." He respectfully tugged at his forelock before he turned away. Squirrel watched him go, feeling dull and almost numb.

_You didn't care about Leech and the other half of the crew that were left on the isle of the Pelegostas_, a voice scoffed at her. _So why should you care about a new bunch of louts? Particularly a new bunch of louts from Tortuga?_

A flurry of feathers bustled out of the rigging and perched on her shoulder. "Spanish doubloons?" Which translated, according to Gibbs, as 'penny for your thoughts'.

Squirrel ruffled the bird's feathers as she turned around to face the grizzled but concerned face of Cotton. "Thankyou, but no. I'm fine." She smiled, then nodded to Pintel and Ragetti. "I've made the list of supplies," she said, handing the sheaf of papers to Ragetti, "Everything we'll need for the voyage. It's all there," she turned to Pintel, "As well as the prices of what we need. They shouldn't have changed much since…" She paused, cleared her throat, "Since I was here before. But just in case, make sure you get the best of everything, but for the cheapest price."

Ragetti squinted at the papers, and Pintel - looking over his shoulders - looked puzzled.

"What's wrong?" Squirrel asked. Her handwriting wasn't that hard to decipher. And she hadn't made that many ink smudges, had she?

"I ken't read," Ragetti mumbled, holding the papers back to Squirrel.

"I ken," Pintel said, screwing up his nose, "But I don't get them numbers."

_Ah_. Squirrel gingerly took the papers back. "Sorry, I didn't know." She sighed, then smiled at the disgruntled pirates. "Well, when you get back, I could teach you… if you want."

The admiring looks on the two pirates' faces brought both a smile and a redness to her face.

"Bless ye, miss!"

"Yore a right gem, you are!"

Jack chose at that moment to interrupt. "Enough of this lollygagging," he moved across the deck with all the purpose of a shark on the hunt, albeit a drunken and swaying shark. "We've got work to do." He glanced lazily at Squirrel. "I presume, Miss Grey, you won't be coming ashore with us?"

Squirrel flushed angrily. Jack had thrown that at her deliberately. "If you see my cousin," she said evenly, "Do me a favour and don't sleep with her. Even if she is the loosest cunt on the whole island."

Jack raised an eyebrow managing to look both amused and insulted. Occasionally he needed to be reminded about Squirrel's ability to blister the air with an assortment of curses. It wasn't a talent she used very often or was particularly proud of, but she'd overheard someone say that if they ever wanted a shirt dyed blue, they'd stand in front of her and make her swear at them.

Squirrel turned away from Jack, mouth pursed and brows pinched. "Make sure they don't cheat you," she said to Cotton, handing him the lists and a purse of clinking coins. She held out her arm, and Cotton's parrot walked down to her wrist then hopped back onto its owner's shoulder. Before Cotton turned away, Squirrel added, "Oh, and get all the powder you can. We're running low again."

Cotton nodded, and his parrot flapped its wings. "Wind in the sails!"

Pintel grinned at her. "I 'ave t' say that you're a better quartermaster than Kohler and Twigg ever were."

"Much better," Ragetti echoed, smiling awkwardly. "The _Pearl_'s never 'ad such a pearl!"

Squirrel smiled, but faintly. "Good luck." She watched as the three pirates left the ship, then her eyes were drawn to a single figure waiting by the railing.

Jack.

She met his gaze, refusing to duck her head but flushing still. _I can't believe you mean to do this. I can't believe you'd let men die for you without even a pause. That you'd do this to a friend … a man who had saved your life!_

Jack gave her an ironic wave as he swung and stomped down the gangplank. As he walked down the docks, Squirrel saw him pull that damnable compass from his belt and shake it, stare at it, shake it again.

_What happens if you can't meet your quota, Jack?_ Squirrel wondered, pulling her amulet out from under her vest. _How much are we worth to you? If you'd abandon a friend who'd saved your life, would you abandon us? Are we worth your life?_ Frightened by where her thoughts were leading, Squirrel let the amulet drop from her fingers.

_It's amazing what a man will do to forestall his final judgement_. _I can't read him, but I can't trust him either_. Squirrel took tentative steps away from the railing. _It's not just Jack's life on the line, it's not just Will's and Elizabeth's. It's ours - me and the rest of the crew. We're all in danger_.

Squirrel looked up at the rigging, her senses and instinct telling her that she should climb up and out of this trouble and stay up where it was safe. But she knew that wasn't possible. They were all tangled up in this web of deceit. There was no safety anymore. Not here, not out at sea, not even on the _Pearl_.

_What's happened to us?_ Squirrel thought, despairing. _How did we stop being pirates and start being missionaries for the Devil?_

The Devil.

Squirrel's eyes widened. That was it. The answer. They could all be saved; they could all be free. She could save the lives of the ninety-nine sailors; she could save the lives of the crew; she could save the life of Will, Elizabeth, Jack and herself. She just needed a way to control the one who wanted to control them. She needed the biggest bargaining chip, the most important piece in this whole game, in her possession.

_I need the heart of Davy Jones_.

Squirrel looked out over the docks. Jack was no longer in sight. Squirrel was alone on the deck, and Marty was resting on a pile of crates, a pistol loose in one hand in case some enterprising pirate or stowaway decided to board the _Pearl_ and make himself at home. He was looking out at the dock, but Squirrel didn't want to take any chances. Gingerly, she dropped her hood low over her face and wrapped her cloak around her. Then slowly, as not to attract Marty's attention, Squirrel walked backwards across the deck to Jack's cabin.

Every sense was alert, electric; the feeling that she was doing something dangerous and unlawful was making her mouth dry. Guilt was making her reconsider. Fear of being caught made her hesitate. Determination alone kept her going.

_I already have the heading. North-north-west. If I can use Jack's charts, I can find out where Davy Jones is likely to have hidden his heart. And if I know where it is…_ Squirrel paused, inches away from Jack's door. _If I find out where it is_, Squirrel made herself promise_, I will tell Jack. I will_. She paused, her lips twisting wryly. _But after a day, at least. I want him to stew a bit longer before I help him out. Punishment for leaving Will behind_.

Her conscience satisfied, Squirrel made the last few steps backwards, and her hands closed around the doorhandle. Keeping her eyes on Marty, she carefully tried the handles, and almost laughed out loud when the doors gave way behind her. They weren't even locked. Carefully, she pulled one of the double-doors towards her, her eyes on the back of Marty's head. If he should turn around now, she would be caught. No sudden movements… She moved slowly, fluidly, like a shadow, like a ghost. As soon as the door was open wide enough, she slowly paced backwards, and closed the door quietly in front of her. And then, breathing out with relief, she turned.

She was in Jack's cabin.

She leant against the door, breathing quietly to herself, taking everything in with her wide brown eyes and the dim candlelight. The boxes and collections of paraphernalia. The empty bottles of rum. The sea charts scattered across the table.

Charts. Squirrel unhooked her cloak from around her shoulders and lay it across a chair. Unburdened and unhindered, she moved quickly to the table. She didn't have much time. Jack could be back anywhere between an hour and a day, depending on how quickly he was able to find volunteers. Squirrel needed to work fast, and, in addition, not leave any sign of her presence.

Again, the feeling a guilt washed over her. _Don't be silly_, she reminded herself, _You're not stealing anything. You're just going to learn something. Learning isn't stealing_. Taking a breath, she sat down on Jack's chair and roved the paper with her eyes and finger until she found Tortuga. _Three, maybe four hours ago, I was_… she followed the line backwards… _there_.

_Thankyou, Anamaria_, she thought to herself. Before she'd left, Ana had given Squirrel ample advice about life aboard a ship, as well as teaching her a few practical lessons about cartography and map-reading. Taking a breath, Squirrel calmed her nerves and looked north-north-west. Her finger traced a line up, up, all the way to the edge of the map. Nothing. Squirrel frowned. Surely, Davy Jones wouldn't leave his heart at the bottom of the ocean. Confused, she found the _Pearl_'s position once more and tried again. Still nothing. Nothing but open water, reefs, rocks.

Squirrel frowned, head tilted. _Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't thinking about Davy Jones' heart when I had Jack's compass_. But as soon as she thought it, she knew it was foolish. _Of course I was. There was no doubt_. Her eyes strayed to the watermark on the map, and she frowned a little deeper.

_How long, exactly, had Davy Jones been the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_? How long has he been cursed? If he hid his heart long ago… maybe where he hid his heart is on an island no longer marked on normal maps_. She looked up, searching the dimly-lit cabin. All the other charts on the desk bore similar dates. _I need an older chart_.

Rising carefully, Squirrel moved to a chest of drawers. Perhaps the rest of the charts were in here. She carefully tugged at the first drawer.

Seashells, bottles, pieces of dried… things? Animals? Whatever they were meant to be… nothing helpful. She shut the drawer, feeling disheartened. She opened the second one. This showed a bit more promise. Under tattered pieces of cloth and barely-together articles of clothing were papers with latitude and longitude lines. Smiling, Squirrel lifted the first of the charts - the date was over ten years previous. Perfect! Now she just needed to line up the two maps and find out where…

_Those are my stockings_.

Squirrel stopped, disbelieving for a moment, then reached and picked up the small bundle of white cloth. She unrolled it, abandoning the chart for the time being. There was no doubt. These were her stockings.

In one of the rare raids of 'honest pirating' she'd been a part of, the crew had uncovered a chest full of ladies' finery, and unanimously declared it to be Squirrel's. Though she'd left the corsets and bodices behind, the stockings and other undergarments were of great use. One of them had gone missing a few months ago. She'd presumed it'd gone overboard one laundry day, when she'd hung them out to dry.

Squirrel flushed. _That no-good son of a_… She didn't know whether to be outraged, or to simply roll her eyes. _He took my stockings!_

_And_, she thought, exasperated, _I can't exactly take them back, now can I? Because he'll notice they're gone, surely, and then he'll know I've been in here!_ With an angry sigh, she rolled them up again and placed them back where she'd found them. _And they were the best ones, too_.

She resumed where she'd left off - she pulled the chart out of the drawer and carried it to the table, then sat down once more. She found Tortuga, found the spot three hours out, and then marked north-north-west.

_Isla Cruces_.

Squirrel felt her heart quicken. That island there. It was small, but it was there. Ten years ago, it hadn't been. It had been forgotten, or abandoned, or both. A perfect hiding place for a man's abandoned and forgotten feelings.

_Stop that_, something snapped at Squirrel. _Davy Jones is the devil, you know full well. He's bartering with souls. He cut out his heart. He's not some tragic figure from some story - he's a monster. The Devil himself_.

It was a logical thought, but something made Squirrel pause. _Is he really the Devil himself?_ She wondered. _Tia told us he was once a man. Just a man. So where did it begin? Who did Davy barter with in exchange for this…?_

She shook herself. There was no time for this kind of philosophy now. She had what she wanted. Isla Cruces. Island of the… cross? 'Crux' was cross in Spanish, she knew well enough. Crossings, maybe; it was close enough. Cross indicated a church, maybe a missionary post. Could he have buried his heart near a church? In a cemetery? Certainly, it would be fitting and ironic enough. But if he can't step on land 'but once every ten years'… perhaps it was further out. In part of a permanent sandbank, so that, if necessary, he could sail over and retrieve it without having to touch the earth. Crossings - where earth and sea could cross freely.

Squirrel picked up the chart and dutifully replaced it, putting each of the articles of clothing - including her lovely white stockings! - back on top of the map. It looked just as it had been when she'd first opened the drawer. Nothing had changed. Allowing herself a slightly self-satisfied smile, she closed the drawer and turned back to look once more around the cabin.

Jack lived here, spent his nights here. All those nights when Squirrel couldn't work up the courage to knock on the door… and tonight, here she was. Alone. Breaking and entering like a common thief.

_Pirate_. She reminded herself firmly. _Pirate_.

She drew her fingers along the edge of the table and the chair, examined the detail in the silver candlesticks, lifted lids of boxes and chests to admire the contents._ I'm in Jack's cabin_, she thought with a sigh. _I'm_ _not likely to ever return here._ _Ever._ _Might as well make the most of it_. She stood behind Jack's chair, stroking the worn padding on the arms and back of the chair fondly, then looked at the charts on the table once more. Had she left any sign of herself? Any fingermarks in dust? Not that she could tell. She turned to leave, but books holding the corners of the charts down caught her eye.

_You_ _can tell a great deal of a man by what he reads_. Squirrel looked towards the door, then back to the books. _I'll just check these, and then I'll go. That's it. _Carefully, she peered at the titles. The two closest books were a copy of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ - _how ironic_, Squirrel thought with a wry smile_, 'Mad but north-north-west'_ - and a strange leather-bound book with no title. Curious, Squirrel lifted the cover and read the inscription on the first page. She frowned, reading the title aloud.

"The Divine Comedy?" Unusual reading matter for a pirate. It didn't seem like something Jack would keep in his possession. But then, neither was _Hamlet_.

On the other hand, Jack would appreciate stories about revenge. But a work of Dante?

Squirrel gingerly picked up the book and began leafing through, looking for pages well-thumbed or dog-eared, trying to gain an insight into Jack Sparrow.

What she found gave her significant pause.

Someone had defaced the book. In a space at the end of the chapter about the deepest circle of hell, a childish scrawl depicted a group of stick figures burning and screaming. Most prominent was an older man with a silly hat, waist-deep in liquid fire, shouting 'Arrrgh' with a significant amount of exclamation marks afterwards. Floating on a cloud above, a grinning caricature of Jack Sparrow pointed and laughed, his halo lop-sided and his harp neglected.

Squirrel closed the book firmly, not knowing whether to giggle or sigh.

The _Pearl_ rocked gently in the water, reminding Squirrel of where she was. Placing the book down where she'd found it, she moved carefully, slowly, not wanting to even accidentally betray her visit by a misstep or by something moved just a little out of position.

Stealth. That's how she worked. She wasn't strong enough or fierce enough to face things head on. She preferred to work from a distance, from the shadows. In secret.

She picked up her cloak, draping it over one arm, then carefully pushed the door open. She couldn't see Marty - that made her worry. Quickly and fluidly, she slid out of the door and pushed it closed behind her. Then she moved three paces forward. Still no sign of Marty. Where was he? Ah, there. Patrolling, walking back and forth across the deck.

"Marty!" She called, and was surprised that he voice didn't tremble, "I'm going to take forty winks. Wake me when the captain gets back." _So I can watch his reaction when he goes into his cabin_. _Just in case_.

Marty nodded. "Will do, miss." He turned his attention back to the docks, leaving Squirrel to climb up into the rigging, her cloak over her shoulder. It had been some time since she'd been able to sleep soundly - a nap would be more than sufficient to dispel this sudden fatigue she felt. When she was up in the crow's nest, she curled up, draped the cloak over herself and shut her eyes.

Isla Cruces.

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Several malicious snakes writhed and slithered across the deck, leaving trails of blood and broken wood. Squirrel lifted her feet in a silent dance as she moved to avoid them. She could have sworn they were all dead. She knew they should be. She'd slaughtered them all. Yet they were alive… once again. Moving carefully, finally found a safe place to stand. Shading her eyes, she looked out into the glaring sunlight out at the wide green sea.

"Not much to look at out there, ey?"

Squirrel turned, slowly; her movements were hampered, slowly, awkward, as though she were underwater. She had thought she was alone, but she recognised that voice, and was glad to hear it. "Anamaria? What are you doing here? I thought you left us when we put in at Kingston!"

Ana ignored Squirrel, and continued to deftly juggle the half-a-dozen eggs with fluid and sure hands. Then, Ana smiled, but it was with Tia's ink-stained teeth. The witch slowly replaced the pirate - it was now Tia who juggled the eggs, standing in Ana's place.

"Fire an' metal's what ties you to dee Jack," Tia laughed, dark eyes knowing. "But what ties 'im to yoo?" With a lazy arm, she threw the eggs at Squirrel. Squirrel cringed, an arm up to defend herself. She wished for her cloak, but she wasn't wearing it. The eggs cracked and shattered, covering Squirrel with blood. Staggering back, she tripped over one of those writhing snakes. Tumbling, losing her balance, she stumbled and fell overboard, landing with a splash.

The water was muddy and sour, mixing with the blood from the eggs. Squirrel spat out a mouthful of the foul stuff before she realised that the water was slowly getting deeper. She managed one weak cry before she sank like a stone.

Under the surface of the water - strangely enough - she was standing still, unmoved by tide or wetness; but, though she stood, she still sank. Squirrel breathed out a column of bubbles, and watched as they rose to the surface. Her eye was caught by other movement. Two dancing figures splashed waist-deep in the ocean, two graceful dancers. Elizabeth's feather-soft feet moved elegantly, while solid Will Turner moved with a more sturdy kind of grace. The dancers moved together, apart, together again, yet somehow always never touching. Their eyes were turned outwards, and their hands reached for others than each other. Yet, as Squirrel watched, those dancers came together one last time, and kissed, and did not part again.

Something tugged on Squirrel's hand - her burnt hand. She ignored it, looking up instead at the rays of light shooting through the water. Had she really fallen so deep? Already the rays of light were fading into mere slits. Squirrel turned her head - moving faster and freer now, compared to how she moved on the _Pearl_ - and found herself nose-to-nose with the baleful visage of a dolphin.

"I hate you," it said, "But we'll be around for a while longer." Before Squirrel could even blink, the dolphin was gone with a flick of its bright pink tail. The thing gripping Squirrel's hand tugged harder, more insistently, and finally she gave way and looked down.

It was Davy Jones himself holding her hand, his tentacled finger wrapped around her wrist. Below them, held inches above the seabed by a huge silver anchor, was the huge, majestic, frightening form of the _Flying Dutchman_. Squirrel shouted a flurry of bubbles, and tried to pull free, but the captain's grip was firm.

"Join my crew," he whispered, his beautiful blue eyes calling to her. She had no answer to give him - not yet. Nodding his understanding, Davy turned and dived, pulling Squirrel with him. Alarmed now, she pulled, tugged, ripped at her arm, but she fell, fell, fell, sinking ever towards the _Dutchman_. There was no help for her.

She looked up, and saw Jack standing on the surface of the water, heels to the sky and head pointing down towards her. Staring, Squirrel lost all sense of what was up or what was down. Jack stood above/below her, looking down/up at her with his roguish gold-toothed smile. He walked surely on the bottom/top of that textured marble floor that was the ocean's surface.

"Not to worry, luv," he said reassuringly, "It'll all be alright in the end." He winked at her, then continued on his way, whistling a tune of freedom.

Squirrel breathed out her last, and drowned.

She woke suddenly, gasping for air, too busy trying to breathe to worry about screaming. Her senses reasserted themselves. It was just a dream.

_Damn_. Squirrel calmed herself, though adrenaline was still coursing through her veins like some potent poison. That same dream, once again. A recurring childhood nightmare, though details changed over time. Tia Dalma and Davy Jones now were a part of her dreams, were they? Strangely enough, those names - though potent enough on their own - had a strange kind of ring when they were together… Squirrel shook herself, lightly slapping her face. Foolish, foolish, foolish. It was just a dream.

It was a fairly cold night. The cold was what brought on the nightmares. Feeling foolish, Squirrel retrieved her cloak and wrapped it back around herself. She must have kicked it off in her dream.

How long had she slept? She was still in Tortuga, she knew that much. She could still hear the music, the laughter, the shots and the cries. And the Pearl was still moored; she could tell by the way it swayed side to side. Slowly, Squirrel rose to her feet and leant on the edge of the nest, looking out over the Tortugan night.

_You're not my home anymore_, she thought to the town. _I don't miss you_.

As though in answer to this challenge, a shot suddenly rang out in the night sky. Suddenly, even for Tortuga. Squirrel jumped instinctively, then blushed at her stupidity.

"Just a gunshot," she whispered.

Once again, Tortuga disagreed. The tavern erupted in shouts, frenzied music, the sound of shattering glass and furniture. A brawl, one of many. But somehow, this one meant something different to Squirrel. Chaos, destruction and mayhem.

"And you're right in the middle of it, aren't you, Jack Sparrow?" She murmured wryly, half-smiling and half-sighing. She banished the dream from her mind - it was nonsense, it meant nothing. There was only one thing important about tonight.

_Isla Cruces_.

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**A/N**: If you want to know what I mean about Jack walking underwater, just go to a pool and go underwater… and upside-down. The surface becomes the floor, you know? Very weird, especially when someone swims past and looks like they're rising out of the ground. That factoid about cold bringing on nightmares is a scientific fact. Woot for science. Also, the dolphin is an Indo-Pacific Humpback Dolphin. Visit Wikipedia, and maybe you'll get the reference :D


	9. Unforeseeable Circumstances

**Disclaimer**: She was last seen in the pirate port of Tortuga, leaving in the company of one Jack Sparrow, and other fugitives from justice…

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The _Pearl_ bobbed gently in the waves. On deck, the crew hefted bags, boxes and barrels aboard, refilling the depleted hold. In the rigging, Squirrel lay back, staring at the stars, in a roughly-tied hammock made from the _Pearl_'s black sails. Though precariously positioned, she was drifting in and out of wakefulness, humming a soft tune under her breath.

_Strange_, she thought, as she was rocked by the ship in her cradle, _I don't know this song._ _But whatever it is and wherever it's come from, it's beautiful_. Words for the song floated in and out of her mind like cirrus clouds in the wind; nothing definite, nothing sure. It was a beautiful tune, like a lullaby. Squirrel stifled a yawn, and looked down over the docks. Her eyes picked out a swaggering figure, and her mind slowly roused itself. None had a swagger like Jack Sparrow. She rose carefully, pulling on one rope to right herself and another to lift her feet up to the spar. Balanced on the wooden beam, she retied the sail and made to leap down to the deck.

The song died in her mind as she remembered: she'd broken into Jack's cabin. If she went down to greet the captain, he'd know. Her face was an open book to him. Flushing, Squirrel remained where she was, leaning on the rope and looking earth-wards.

After watching Jack for a moment, Squirrel's eye was caught by another figure - this figure was no pirate or sailor seeking to sneak aboard a ship, clearly. They were moving with sure purpose… following after Jack. Squirrel tensed, frowning, and her fingers strayed to the shanghai tucked in her belt. She'd stopped a bullet for Jack; she'd do it again if she had to. There was something not right about this sailor. Something not right at all.

"Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Jack barely looked over his shoulder. "Come to join me crew, lad? Welcome aboard!"

The figure did not look impressed. "I've come looking for the man I love."

Squirrel's eyes widened - she suddenly knew what had been bothering her about the newcomer. They could dress like a sailor, they could tie their hair in a club, they could adopt a stronger way of walking and talking, but no woman could ever hide feelings of true love. Especially not from another woman. And especially not from a woman who knew what true love was, and what one would risk for it.

Squirrel quickly scrambled across the ropes, nimble and sure, her mind as quick as her movements. She wanted to be closer, catch a glimpse of this woman who would risk reputation and safety in order to follow her love. Squirrel found herself smiling, and thought, _She might very well be my reflection in a mirror!_ Squirrel reached the edge of the _Pearl_'s rigging, and was still not close enough to see the woman's face. But she certainly saw Jack's.

"I'm deeply flattered, son," he said, looking alarmed and almost sickened, "But my first and only love is the sea." He made a 'drop him' motion to Gibbs, who nodded and swigged nervously from a bottle.

Shaking her head in exasperation and amusement, Squirrel caught sight of someone else. A figure, hiding the shadows, arms crossed and watching, silently. Squirrel felt fear course through her - she recognised a cold-blooded killer when she saw one. They visited her uncle's tavern all the time; a lot of them even worked for him. But this man… this man was well-dressed, well-off. No merchant's lackey, this. This one was someone with power, influence… and, doubtless, so was the man this killer worked for.

"Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow."

Squirrel's head snapped back, focusing on the woman. William Turner? But that would mean…

"Elizabeth?"

Squirrel looked at the woman, feeling sick. _You've come looking for your love… and we've sent him to his grave_. She shook herself, then reasserted, _Jack did. Not 'we'. He did. Not us_. She bit her lip, wondering… panicking…

Jack shooed Gibbs away - the sailor clutched at his bottle of rum possessively - before sauntering over to Elizabeth Swann. "You know," he said, grinning boyishly, "These clothes do not suit you at all. It should be a dress or nothing." His grin widened, "And I happen to have no dress in my cabin."

Squirrel, made an indignant noise, and would have thrown something at him were her hands not full of rope. Instead, she coloured silently, both hurt and angry.

Elizabeth evidently did not think much of the pirate's frivolous manner either. "I know Will came to find you. Where is he?"

Squirrel bit her lip harder. _Oh no, oh no_… Her hands twisted the ropes that held her up.

Jack sighed, looking weary. "Darling, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this, but through a series of unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that had nothing whatsoever to do with me… poor Will has been press-ganged into Davy Jones' crew."

Squirrel gaped at Jack's bare-faced lie. But she wasn't the only one disbelieving.

"Oh please," a mud-splattered man lifted his head from the dock's railing, from where he'd been throwing up, "Davy Jones? The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?" His tone was officious and mocking, and Squirrel felt that she knew him from somewhere, but couldn't quite place him. As Jack and the deep-voiced drunkard exchanged words, Squirrel decided to move closer. Letting go of one of the ropes, she swung out into space, then let go.

She'd sworn never to set foot on Tortuga ever again. But ships weren't Tortuga, now, were they? And as long as she wasn't caught, she would be fine. She reached out and caught the loose and unwatched line of rigging from the ship opposite, and, breaking every law of ships, seas and sailors, swung over and clambered up in the rigging of the other ship.

She looked back at the _Pearl_ but once. "I'll come back," she promised with a whisper. She would not be trespassing on this strange ship for long. Cloaked and swift as silver, she climbed through the rigging across and down as close as she could; as she dared. She hung, unseen, over the heads of Elizabeth and Jack, listening, a length of rope twisted in her hands.

"All I want is to find Will." The heartache in Elizabeth's voice was palpable.

Jack nodded, sighing, understanding. "I know…" Then he seemed to be struck by an idea. "Are you certain? Are you sure? Is that what you _really_ want most?"

Elizabeth tilted her head, frowning in puzzlement. Squirrel mirrored her, wondering what Jack could possibly be thinking.

"Course," Elizabeth said.

Jack raised a knowing eyebrow, wearing his most charming gold-toothed smirk. "Because I would think you would want to find a way to save Will most."

Elizabeth's frown both lightened and deepened. "And you have a way of doing that?"

"Well," Jack said, pulling at his beaded beard. "There is a chest…"

"Oh dear," the drunkard muttered, rolling his eyes. He staggered back to the rail to throw up again; Squirrel winced in disgust.

"A chest of unknown size and origin…" Jack continued.

Pintel and Ragetti, carrying a cask of bottle between them, contributed to the conversation as they passed. "… what contains the still-beatin' heart of Davy Jones." Ragetti mimed ripping his heart out, and made his hand beat, as though he were holding the organ itself.

Before Elizabeth could speak a question, Jack picked up where the conversation was left off. "And whoever possesses that chest possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever he or she wants… including saving brave William from his grave fate."

The drunkard chose to reappear. "You don't actually believe him, do you?" He asked Elizabeth. Jack looked at Elizabeth, frankly and plainly.

There was a significant pause. Squirrel squirmed slightly. _Jack's both lying and telling the truth at the same time. That's one of the reasons why I can never read him. Because I can never really know_…

"How do we find it?"

Jack grinned while, up in the rigging, Squirrel felt her heart sink. "With this," the pirate said, holding something out to Elizabeth. "My compass," he clicked it open and closed like a clam, "Is unique."

"'Unique' here having the meaning of 'broken'," the drunkard muttered disparagingly, returning to the railing again.

"True enough," Jack looked annoyed, then resumed, "My compass doesn't point north."

"Where does it point?"

"It points to whatever you want the most."

"Jack…" Elizabeth half-laughed, then looked at him with all seriousness. "Are you telling the truth?"

Jack held the woman's gaze and nodded. "Every word, luv."

Squirrel had heard enough. She climbed back up the rigging, found a spare rope, and swung back to the _Pearl_. It felt good to have solid timbers beneath her feet again, but she still felt uneasy.

Elizabeth Swann. The dancer in Squirrel's dream now had a face. And it was beautiful. Will was a very lucky man to have a woman of such quality who loved him… Elizabeth was an incredibly lucky woman to have a man of Will's quality loving her.

But everything was tangled up in a skein of lies. Eventually, no-one would be blameless. And everyone would be hurt.

Squirrel clicked her tongue, a bitter taste in her mouth.

Gibbs approached her, the inventory lists in his hand. He looked glad, appreciative. "Looks like everything we need is here, Miss. A full hold'll be good for all of us."

Squirrel nodded, distracted. "I thought as much."

Gibbs looked down at the lists again, grinning, then back across the dock. "Well, looks like we'll be leavin' soon."

Squirrel looked out over the dark sea, and sighed heavily. "Do we have _everything_ we need, Mister Gibbs?"

Gibbs consulted the list. "Well, aside from the food, livestock, extra ropes, powder…" Gibbs' face darkened. "I think you'll find we've not met your recommendation for powder, Miss. The price for powder's gone up, not to mention that it's in short supply, what with the East India Trading Company coming down hard on pirates and all." He shrugged. "Still, Cotton and the boys did their best, considering."

"Anything else?" Squirrel said, turning her eyes back to the town.

Gibbs checked the lists again. "Oh, aye, the extra rum." He grinned. "That were a fine idea of yours, Miss Grey, and mark me, a fine idea!"

Squirrel looked at the sailor frankly, unable to avoid his gaze any longer. "That wasn't what I was talking about, Gibbs," she said, her voice taut and pained. "Do we have the ninety-nine men we need, or not?"

Gibbs looked taken aback at her frankness. "I…" He shook his head. "I suppose so." He turned and walked back down to the dock. Squirrel sighed, pained, and leant on the railing. The water and sky were as black as ink, and matched her mood.

Jack was lying, Will was trapped aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, and now Elizabeth was being dragged into this. Not to mention these new crewmen, who did not know what they had signed themselves up for. No-one was getting out of this easily. Least of all herself. _Because I'm more tangled up in this than I like to think_.

Voices from the dock rose up to her. "We have our heading!"

The spirits in Gibbs' voice rose. "Cast off those lines, weigh anchor, and cloud that canvas!" He barked orders and the sailors and pirates lingering around the dock sprang to obey. The crew - new and old - grabbed what supplies remained and brought them aboard, readying to be on-deck for when the ship would leave Tortuga harbour.

Squirrel looked back through the crowd, her eyes seeking that cold and frightening man - that well-dressed killer - her eye had lit on earlier, but there was no sign of him. Shaking off a sense of foreboding, Squirrel mustered a smile and turned to greet the doomed men who were part of this crew now.

Elizabeth was the first one she saw. And Squirrel's smile was wasted on her; Miss Swann's focus was entirely on Jack's compass. Squirrel felt both relieved and panicked - if Elizabeth was showing the way to Davy Jones' heart, then there was no need for Squirrel to share that she knew of Isla Cruces. But Jack had left his most trusted possession with Elizabeth? Why? Why hadn't he trusted it with Squirrel?

_Because you told him to shove it where the sun don't shine_, a voice scorned. Squirrel scowled momentarily, feeling foolish that she let a chance like that slip by. A chance for Jack's trust and admiration. At the time, her reason _had_ been valid… but now…

"Welcome to the crew, former Commodore," Pintel laughed from the dock. Squirrel was jolted into alertness on hearing this. Commodore? As in, Commodore Norrington? He was here? How?

The mud-splattered drunkard staggered up the gangplank, a goat in his arms. Under the mud and the tattered uniform, Squirrel thought she recognised the man who had chased them around the Atlantic, but barely. Barely. What had happened to him?

"Commodore?" She asked, moving out from the shadows, her cloak swishing around her ankles.

Norrington turned unsteadily on his feet, and squinted at her. "What?" His eyes widened slightly when he noticed Squirrel was a woman.

Squirrel blushed at his stare, but fought for control of her face. "Follow me," she said softly. "I'll show you where to tether the goat."

She turned, making for the stairs that lead below. She looked up once, and caught sight of Jack returning to his cabin. He was whistling to himself as he swung the doors open, stepped inside, and slammed them closed. Squirrel sighed, and continued on_. Whether Jack knows or not I've been in there_, she thought sadly, it doesn't matter. _What I know, what I've learned, doesn't matter. Not anymore. Elizabeth's the one Jack will consult now_. _And she knows what she wants, whereas I… I don't even know for sure_.

It was a simple enough step in logic, but still, Squirrel felt betrayed. And useless. It was a foolish thought - Elizabeth wasn't replacing her. Squirrel still had duties aboard the ship, and it wasn't like Jack had marooned her on Tortuga or anything. But somehow, Squirrel's mood was plummeting, and naught could revive it.

The ship was alive with the sound of footsteps and voices; laughter and cursing and companionable shouting. Squirrel felt cold as she imagined the silence that would fill the ship in three more days; the silence that she once found peaceable but she now imagined would become bitter and accusing.

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As Norrington tethered the goat with the rest of the livestock, Squirrel examined him from under her hood. He was a pitiable figure, for certain. His uniform was in tatters, the brocade torn off; he smelt of rum and sweat and hopelessness. Covered in mud and grime, he didn't seem at all like the dedicated naval hero who had doggedly chased them across oceans, through sunshine and rain and storms and who knows what else.

As Squirrel watched, the tattered wig Norrington still wore slid off the side of his head and plopped to the deck. The former commodore made a half-hearted reach for it, but the goat was faster. It snatched the wig up in its mouth and started chewing. Norrington swore at the goat, but didn't bother trying to get his wig back. He merely leant on the wooden post of the animal's stall and sighed wearily.

"Are you alright?" Squirrel asked, setting down the bowl she had been carrying on a barrel.

Norrington looked annoyed, but he didn't open his eyes. "Does it look like it?" His voice was baritone and still carried an air of command, though tinged with disappointment and despair. "I used to be a commodore. Respected, feared… and now look at me." He wiped his hand over his face, disgusted and tired.

Squirrel sighed, and tried again. "Here," she said gently, holding out a damp cloth. Norrington finally opened his eyes, and frowned suspiciously.

"What's that for?"

"To clean yourself up," Squirrel said. She indicated to the bowl she'd set down - it was full of water. Norrington grunted slightly, but accepted the cloth and slumped over to the bowl of water and started washing his face. Squirrel waited patiently, watching him. It seemed fitting that she should be in the hold with Norrington - after all, their moods matched. They were both in dark pits of despair, though for different reasons.

"You almost h-had us off Tripoli," Squirrel said softly. "It was very close."

Norrington snorted, throwing down the now-dirtied cloth. "Of course it was." He splashed water onto his face, rubbing at the grime and the mud caught in the stubble of his beard. "And if I'd caught you, I wouldn't _be_ here." His anger was half-hearted.  
"Commodore…"

This time, his anger was raw. "I'm not a commodore anymore!" He shouted. This reflection in the bowl rippled like waves before a storm. The animals behind them bleated and bawled, alarmed by the sudden noise. Squirrel herself was taken aback as well. Norrington saw the alarm in her eyes, and fell back with a heavy sigh. He cuffed at the water unenthusiastically, then mumbled an apology.

"How did it happen?" Squirrel asked, gently, so as not to offend.

Norrington sighed, then straightened and turned to face her, though his eyes he kept low. "It doesn't matter anymore." He pulled at his hair, trying to straighten out the mess that had been hidden under that wig of his. "I'm here now. A member of a pirate crew." He eyeballed her suspiciously. "Outranked by a _woman_, of all things."

Squirrel raised an eyebrow. She'd never considered the possibility that she could outrank anyone - she'd always been 'Miss Squirrel Grey'. She'd never had an official placement aboard the _Black Pearl_. But, considering how she was now one of the senior members of the crew… The thought was both uplifting and sobering - she had a _place_, she had somewhere she _belonged_, but it was only because of ninety-nine men who were going to die.

Squirrel looked at Norrington, pityingly. Surely, there were men aboard who did not deserve this fate. Especially not a fate which would justify Jack Sparrow's carefree - _careless_ - life. Surely, there were some men who deserved a second chance.

_All that can be solved when you get your hands on Davy Jones' heart_, she reminded herself. She carefully smoothed down her face so as not to betray her thoughts.

"What's a woman doing aboard a ship anyway?" Norrington continued, wiping at his now-cleaner face with the reverse side of the cloth. "With someone like Gibbs here, I would have thought that you'd be thrown overboard."

"What?" Squirrel frowned, drawn back out of her musings. "Why? Because women are b-bad luck?"

Norrington tilted his head, suddenly interested. "I would have thought so, yes."

Squirrel stared Norrington down with an innocent smile, but inside she was cringing. There was something strange about Norrington. A subtle something - very subtle - about him which reminded her of a cat sighting its prey. There was suddenly something in the way he stood and held himself that reminded Squirrel of a cat resettling itself from rest to alertness, unsheathing its claws.

"Well," Squirrel said, not letting her unease show, "I think you'll find I'm far too useful for that."

"Useful," Norrington scoffed, though his eyes held hers. "Really?" There was something sardonic, almost suggestive, in his tone.

Squirrel flushed hotly, and was glad for the near-darkness in which she stood. "Yes. I've like as much the sharpest eyes aboard, and none can climb the rigging faster than I." Without realising it, she'd slipped into a pirate's vernacular, a pirate's grammar. _So be it. If I have to prove myself a pirate, then that's how I'll act_.

The former commodore inclined his head. "Of course. I don't doubt it." The cat sheathed its claws… for now. But he still considered her curiously.

Squirrel gave him a small frown before turning her back to him. "Follow me," she said, leading him back out of the hold, "We'll see to your duties." Norrington snorted, but followed her; she did, after all, outrank him.

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**A/N**: Oodles of canon details here, and I apologise. It's for the best, trust me. For the next chapter... all in favour of Squirrel and Jack having some alone time say 'AYE'!


	10. Letters Of Marque

**Disclaimer**: But we did make a good bit of profit… of fun!

**A/N**: This chapter… was meant to be at least half the length it is now. Somehow, it's the longest chapter so far - it counts as two chapters in itself. Bizarre. But there were just so many things I wanted to put in. I had to stop and go 'whoa, too much here. Stop writing, now!' So, you'll have to wait until the next chapter for Squirrel and Jack's alone time. Sorry, Sentinel Sparrow, CompYES, and my other readers who love to leave me nice reviews, but that kind stuff is going to have to wait a bit. Also, this chapter was brought to you by ICRep's multi-fandom **_birthday_** post. It's awesome-riffic!

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"Ah! Miss Grey!"

Squirrel lifted her head at the sound of Gibbs' voice. He and Elizabeth stood on the stairs, coming down towards them. Squirrel stopped, and waited; behind her, Norrington also came to a standstill.

"There y'are, Miss Grey," Gibbs smiled. "I was wonderin' where you'd gone off to." For a moment, Gibbs' eye flickered to the now-cleaner face of Norrington.

"Just in the hold," Squirrel reassured the First Mate, knowing he'd be wondering about her absence in more ways than one, "Seeing to some c-cargo." She smiled reassuringly. "We were coming up to look for you."

Gibbs nodded, satisfied for the time being. "Ah." Gibbs addressed Norrington. "Did Miss Grey tell ye of your duties, then?"

"No," Norrington said, drolly, "Not yet."

Gibbs nodded. "Right then. Well, if you follow me. And you," he turned back to Squirrel, "take Elizabeth down and get her settled." Seeing Squirrel's perplexed frown, Gibbs added, "See she gets a bunk out of the way of the rest of this lot," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the new crewmen. _Keep yourselves out of the way of the men_; Squirrel nodded in understanding, then smiled reassuringly at Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled back, though it was a lost and confused smile.

"Oh, and Miss Grey…" Gibbs cleared his throat, "When you're done, could you come to the galley? I need a word with you." Before Squirrel could ask a single question as to the content of or reason for this 'word', Gibbs started talking to Norrington. The two men went up above deck, leaving Squirrel and Elizabeth standing awkwardly below.

"Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_, Miss Swann," Squirrel said, shyly, inclining her head. "I'm Squirrel."

Elizabeth smiled back, then considered Squirrel curiously. "I heard Mister Gibbs call you Miss Grey. Is Squirrel your pirate name?"

Squirrel almost sighed. "No," she said calmly, "It's my name. I've…" She shrugged, smiling it off, "I can't remember my real name. Amnesia."

"I'm so sorry," Elizabeth's eyes widened in concern.

Squirrel just shook her head. "It's nothing." She turned. "Follow me - I'll show you to your bunk." The two women walked softly through the now-noisy ship, ducking through the mess of hammocks and crates. Squirrel moved carefully and slowly, making sure Elizabeth would remember the way to their hidden quarters.

As they walked, Squirrel couldn't help but look at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Miss Swann was very beautiful - no doubt she looked even more so when dressed in the frills and finery of her station, rather than men's clothes. Yet somehow, she managed to make the dun-brown coat, trousers, vest and off-white blouse - even the tricorn hat she wore - look feminine. Under a thin layer of sweat and grime - compulsory by Tortugan standards - Elizabeth's face seemed to glow golden. Her skin was a sun-kissed gold, like her hair.

_I wish I had skin and hair like that. She looks so beautiful, even dressed like a sailor!_ Squirrel looked surreptitiously down at her own clothing - though she wore nearly the same outfit, she looked plain and boring. And barely feminine at all. Perhaps if she stitched her blouse a size smaller, bound her breasts a bit looser … Self-conscious, Squirrel closed her cloak and ducked her head.

"Here," she said softly, pushing aside a curtain, revealing two beds built into the wood of the ship, one over the top of the other, each one with a curtain for privacy. "The top bunk's mine," Squirrel knelt down, "But you can have the bottom one if you wish." She began clearing away the spare ropes and bolts of cloth that had been left on the bottom bed.

"Thankyou." Elizabeth stood awkwardly to one side, watching as Squirrel moved the debris to the floor and to one side. "Did Anamaria used to sleep here?"

Squirrel looked up, surprised. "Yes. She did." It came back to Squirrel, then, that this wasn't Elizabeth's first time on the _Pearl_. She'd been here before - she must have known Ana.

"Where is she now?"

Squirrel smoothed down the covers of the bed. "She left us. When we put in at Kingston about a month ago, she didn't stay. Though," Squirrel managed a smile, "I can't say I blame her."

"You must have been good friends," Elizabeth said gently.

Squirrel just nodded, not knowing what else to say. After a moment's silence, she indicated the bed. "All yours." She reached under the bunk and half-pulled out a sea-chest. "This is yours too, for the time being. And there's a mirror on that wall there," she pointed, "If you ever need to use it."

Elizabeth thanked Squirrel with a wider smile, then moved to the mirror. Squirrel pushed the chest back under the bunk and watched out of the corner of her eye. Elizabeth doffed the tricorn hat, tossing it lightly on the bed, before reaching back and freeing her hair from the sailor's club. Golden threads unwound under her nimble lady's fingers.

Squirrel looked away and down, her hands reaching for her own hair. It had grown since she'd left Tortuga, but she'd always preferred to wear it tied back in a tight ponytail which left her face looking boyish and unadorned. Maybe if she cut herself a fringe, or left it loose, like Elizabeth…

Shaking the thought free, Squirrel rose to her feet. "I'll leave you to get settled," she said, a little more abruptly than she'd meant. "Gibbs wanted to see me in the galley."

Elizabeth turned from the mirror. "Wait!" Squirrel turned back, wondering, waiting. Elizabeth bit her lip, her braid half-undone over one shoulder. "You… you knew Will? Did he come aboard? Was he alright? Did he say anything about me?" Miss Swann's eyes were liquid and pleading. "What happened to Will?"

Squirrel was glad for the hood that half-obscured her face in shadow. "I…"

Elizabeth moved forward and clutched at Squirrel's arm. "Do you know what happened?"

Squirrel nodded before she could stop herself. "But I… I'll t-tell you l-later," she stammered, gingerly freeing herself. "I'll be back, I p-promise. I just need to find out… what Gibbs wanted…" She turned and hurried away, trying to make her quick steps look nimble and practiced rather than panicked and fleeing.

_What am I supposed to tell her? What am I supposed to say?_

Squirrel burst through the galley with a gasp akin to a drowner's final breath. Faces turned to her - familiar faces. Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Pintel and Ragetti.

"Ah, good, you made it." Gibbs moved over and escorted Squirrel to a seat; she seated herself at the table hesitatingly. Why was everyone so silent? Why were they trying not to look at her?

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Gents… and lady," he nodded, earning a slight blush from Squirrel, "As you're well aware, the extra men aboard means we - as the crew - no longer have the duties we may have held previously." He sighed, nodding. "But we're still all senior members of the crew, so…"

Pintel sat up a little straighter. "Senior members? Wot, even us?" Ragetti blinked, his wooden eye mournfully rolling in its socket.

Gibbs nodded. "Aye. You lads as well." The two pirates looked at each other, incredulous but rejoicing. Gibbs continued, "But… we won't have all the duties that we might've had when we were… just us." He looked at Squirrel, but his eyes slid off of her. "As it stands, I've more'n eight men working in shifts in the crow's nest alone, not to mention the various men who'll be working the ropes from above."

Squirrel recognised the oblique reference immediately. "So I won't be… needed… anymore?"

Gibbs hurried to repair the damage. "Not in the capacity of lookout, Miss. And - facing facts - none of us have half of what we had before."

"But you all have something useful to do," Squirrel protested quietly. "You can haul on ropes and weigh anchor and… and all I'm good for is sitting in the rigging and looking out at sea." Putting this realisation into words suddenly made it painfully obvious to her. _I'm too weak to help set the sails… and when push comes to shove what do I do? I hide in the rigging and throw rocks and insults, because I'm took weak to lift a sword or a pistol._

"Not true!" Marty broke in, frowning. "You're dead-brilliant with the grub we have. I wouldn't trust anyone else in the kitchen more than you. You're a brilliant cook, and you know it!" He paused a moment, then added, "And don't forget that you're a fine quartermaster. We can trust you for certain when it comes to the supplies."

"Aye!" Ragetti lifted his head, smiling shyly at Squirrel. "You did them letters beautifully!" Pintel also nodded.

"Wind in the sails!" Cotton's parrot walked across the table and rubbed its head on her arm. "Even keel!" Cotton himself grinned.

Squirrel smiled at the men, then turned back to Gibbs, the smile fading. "But will I…"

Gibbs hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No, lass." He sighed, shrugging slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss Grey, but the men needed something to do. And… I didn't have much choice, seein' as how you're… you're a woman, and all. I'm sorry."

Squirrel ducked her head, her mood inky black again, but even more so than before. "I see. So… I have no duties whatsoever… I'm not needed for anything… correct?"

Gibbs looked pained. "I'm truly sorry, Miss Grey. But… that's the truth of it."

Squirrel ground her thumb into the wood of the table. "So…" The words were harsh and painful, and nearly choked her. "I'm useless." _I may have well stayed in Tortuga… at least I was useful there! At least I had something to do! Here… I'm a part of this crew but I can't do anything because I've been replaced… and even Jack doesn't need directions! He doesn't even need… me…_

"Miss Grey, that's not what I meant…"

Squirrel rose angrily to her feet, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "But it's the truth! I'm useless!" She tried to stop from sounding weak, but couldn't. She turned away instead, heading for the door, wanting to find some place to sit and cry. "No-one needs me for anything!"

"I do."

Squirrel stopped at the doorway, and turned back, surprised. Surprised at not only the source of the voice, but at the simplicity of the statement.

Ragetti ducked his head somewhat, awkward and shy. "It's jus'," he said, "It's jus' that no-one's ever wanted t' teach me t' read before…" He half-mumbled, blushing under the grime on his face, "An'… an' I think that's werf summin'… innit?"

Squirrel felt all her foolish, selfish anger evaporate at the sight of the pirate's bashful and honest face. He wanted to learn to read, and she had promised to teach him. That had meant so much to him, more than she'd realised. All her life she'd been told she was useless, hopeless, not worth anything… and yet, here, aboard the Pearl, time and time again she'd been shown how needed she was, how much a part of everything she was…

Squirrel ducked her head, smiling under tear-soaked eyelashes. "Aye. That's something." She smiled a little wider, laughing. "I did promise, didn't I. I'm sorry." She sighed, wiped a tear away, and then looked around at the crew.

These men were the reason she belonged. They were her family. They looked to her now, smiling, welcoming.

"'Ere, Squirrel," Marty indicated the chair she'd vacated. "Dry your eyes, and then stay a while."

Cotton's parrot bobbed up and down, spreading it's wings. "Sheets to the wind! Sheets to the wind!"

Gibbs tilted his head, wearing an apologetic smile. "Cotton's right - it's been a fair while since you've played cards with us. What say you, Miss Grey?"

Squirrel smiled, lowering her eyes. "I'll stay," she said softly. "Thankyou." She sat down, untying a bag from her belt. This small pouch contained a dog-eared set of playing cards, and a pair of dice. Squirrel passes the cards to Gibbs, who shuffled them and started dealing them out; she herself rattled the dice in one hand, feeling grateful for the company that surrounded her. She looked at Ragetti, who was seated next to her, and smiled. He smiled back, embarrassed but pleased. He held out a small black book to her, shuffling in his seat like an excited puppy.

"'Ere," he said, "Could you read us some of this?"

Squirrel took the book graciously - slipping the dice back in their bag - and gingerly pried apart the waterlogged pages. A strange sense of recognition washed over her as she read the first words she saw. "I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore I shall praise thee forever and ever…" She looked up at Ragetti, surprised. "This is a Bible."

Ragetti just nodded. Pintel, involved in a four-way card game between Gibbs, Marty and Cotton, looked up at Squirrel. "'E's worried about the state of 'is immortal soul, 'e is."

"It's a decent enough care, and not one t' be taken lightly," Gibbs commented, looking at the book in Squirrel's hands with interest. "Go on, Miss Grey. Read us one of the Psalms."

"Of course, Gibbs. I always liked the 25th Psalm," Squirrel smiled, peeling apart the Bible's pages gingerly. "My mother always used to read…" Squirrel's hands froze; she lifted her eyes and found the crew staring at her, just as surprised as she was.

"Wot?" Ragetti asked, "Wot 'appened?"

Squirrel looked down at the bible, feeling a hot flush building behind her ears. "My mother," she said the words slowly, scarce able to believe what she was saying. "She would sit me on her lap and read to me. She smelt of soft roses, not hard-edged roses like the women of the night. Soft roses. Her dress was cotton. And my father would stand in the doorway and watch us both; smells of coffee and spices from the storehouses came through the window. And he… he smiled at us. 'That's my girls', he'd say… And he'd laugh and she'd laugh and I laughed with them because I was so happy…" She stopped talking, barely able to believe, let alone continue.

"Wot?" Pintel frowned around at the frozen faces. "Wot's goin' on?"

"I remember," Squirrel breathed. "I remember this…" She looked down at the Bible in her hands.

Gibbs put a hand on her shoulder, smiling comfortingly. "Looks like you're finally recovering your lost memories, Miss Grey."

Squirrel nodded mutely, stunned. A mind was a strange and curious thing. All those nights she'd spent staring out at sea, or up at the stars, or curled up half-asleep, straining to remember a crumb, a grain, a glimmer of her past, to find nothing but silence… and yet, opening the Bible had conjured up the past so suddenly. Strange, to say the least.

"Well," Marty said, "Ye did say that yer mother was a proper lady, and yer father was a sailor, so… they're both the kind that would want their child t' have a proper education, aye?"

Squirrel nodded again, running her fingers over the pages. "Aye." _My parents_…

Ragetti looked confused. "So… Did I 'elp you, then?"

"Course you did!" Pintel grinned at his friend before turning his attention back to his cards, "If it weren't for you bein' clever and givin' Miss Squirrel the Bible, she wouldn't have remembered her dead mum and dad."

Ragetti looked at the Bible in Squirrel's hands, and then up at her. A small, slow smile spread across his face. "It might've been divine providence wot inspired me to be clever, you think?"

Squirrel smiled back, her heart soaring, lifting her up out of the black pits of despair. "I don't doubt it." She put the Bible down between them. "Shall I read the psalm, then?"

"Yes, please." Ragetti shuffled closer beside her, his eye following her finger as she read.

"Unto thee, my Lord, do I lift up my soul. O my God, I put my trust in thee…"

So Squirrel passed the latter half of the evening: in the company of her card-playing friends, she read various passages from the Bible aloud, remembering them even as she read. She helped Ragetti learn words and phrases, and promised to teach him the alphabet next she could get a hold of ink and paper. Each of the crewmen suggested passages, as both talismans against misfortune and as a means of soothing the soul. And Squirrel read on, calmed and uplifted, but always hoping that the next verse, the next word, would prompt another memory.

She continued reading until she heard the bell ring for second dogwatch, and then sat up in alarm. For a moment, she'd forgotten where she was. She was lost in the convivial, familial closeness of the galley; the sound of the bells reminded her of what she'd set aside for the moment.

_We're heading for Davy Jones' chest with a ship full of expendable men. And Elizabeth Swann_.

"Gibbs," Squirrel's voice was a mere whisper, "Elizabeth's been asking about Will." The crew turned to look at her, varying degrees of surprise or unease on their faces. "What do I tell her?"

Gibbs paused in the midst of shuffling the cards. "Tell her what you can," he said slowly, "But nothing more than what you feel would be right." He looked as awkward as Squirrel had felt.

Squirrel nodded slowly, sighing inwardly. How would she know what to say? Guilt would make her an easy read. Elizabeth would know that Squirrel knew something more than she was willing to tell. Surely Squirrel would betray Jack, albeit unintentionally.

Squirrel looked down at the Bible. In her mind, something dug and scratched at her. There was something important about this Bible. Something she somehow -_knew_- would play a larger role sometime ahead. But she didn't know what. Was it a memory, hidden? Was it a verse which would make everything clear? Was it both? A link to her past and a means for the future? Feeling on the verge of something big, Squirrel slowly and reluctantly closed the leather-bound book and handed it back to Ragetti. _I promised I would talk to Elizabeth. I promised. And there will be time enough to search for answers later_.

"Reefs abound," Cotton's parrot warned as Gibbs handed Squirrel back her deck of cards. Squirrel put the cards back into the pouch with the dice, and slowly rose to her feet.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said softly, and vanished with a swish of her cloak. She picked her way through the darkness, avoiding the now-full hammocks and the bunches of men who were still awake, gambling by lanterns and singing course songs to each other. She avoided them all as she moved her way through the darkness, heading for the hidden bunks, where the curtain gave some measure of privacy.

The curtain was drawn, and Elizabeth was asleep. Squirrel closed the curtain behind her, then stood and looked at the sleeping beauty. Tears had tracked down Elizabeth's face, soaking into her pillow and her loose golden hair. She must have cried herself to sleep. Squirrel reached down, and gently brushed a strand of hair free from Elizabeth's face, feeling saddened and sorry for her role in all this. This woman deserved to know the truth. Elizabeth deserved to know that Jack had betrayed Will's friendship and trust; she deserved to know that Will now served aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ in Jack's place. She deserved to know…

But not now. She was sleeping now, rest she surely needed.

_And_, Squirrel's inner voice prompted almost cruelly, _she won't hear it from you. Jack may trick a friend to an unhappy fate, but you won't say a word. You won't betray Jack. You can't._

_That's right._ _I won't betray him_. Squirrel thought calmly, squashing the anger she felt, _I may be a pirate, but I'm a good person_.

_And Jack isn't?_

That made Squirrel pause. _No._ _Not all the time_, she finally admitted to herself. _But it's what I wish he could be_.

With that final thought, she turned and climbed up into her own bunk, kicking off her boots and covering herself with her cloak. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard that strange, beautiful lullaby playing in her head. She hummed it softly before falling into a dreamless sleep. There was a slight smile on her lips when she finally gave way to the darkness; the smile was beautiful, and sad.

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The morning came. Squirrel heard Elizabeth stirring, and rose quickly, donning her cloak and boots again. She'd rested well, and was not in the least bit groggy. She wondered if Elizabeth felt the same, given how she'd fallen asleep.

"Morning, Miss Swann," Squirrel smiled, as Elizabeth blinked the sleep from her eyes. She hid her lips in an apologetic smile. "Forgive me for not coming back sooner. Gibbs kept me longer than I'd expected."

Elizabeth rose easily from the bunk, not looking in the least discomforted by the awkwardly small sleeping area. "It's alright. I don't blame you." She smiled, then her hands flew to her chest, checking for something. With a relieved sigh, Elizabeth pulled a small leather-bound packet from her tunic and held them in her hands.

Squirrel looked at the packet with some measure of unease. "What's that?"

Elizabeth brandished the packet as she got to her feet. "Bargain," she said, a determined set to her eyes and jaw. "Bargain with Jack Sparrow." She looked at Squirrel. "Where would he be at this time of morning?"

Squirrel cocked her head, and, as if on cue, the bell for forenoon watch began to toll. "He'll be on deck, if I know him well enough," Squirrel said matter-of-factly, binding back her hair. "I may have only been aboard for a few months, but I can say I know him pretty well." Squirrel pinked slightly as she dropped the hood over her face; she wondered at her boldness. _Where had _that_ come from_?

Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. She picked up her tricorn, setting it over her unbound hair. "Let's go, then," she smiled, and pushed aside the curtain with the hand that held the 'bargain'. Squirrel followed in her wake, wondering at what might be contained in that leather packet, and what it could possibly mean for Jack Sparrow.

The morning light was bright and cheerful, and the _Pearl_ was bustling with activity like never before. Squirrel looked up, surprised by the number of men hanging from the rigging, clambering over the spars, running to and fro across the deck. The _Pearl_ was so full of life - maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have extra members of the crew aboard. Maybe it would do everyone good to have half-duties, working in shifts. The _Pearl_ certainly seemed to be doing better. Her sails had never seemed so full, and her timbers had never seemed so light.

Squirrel caught sight of Norrington, kneeling as if in prayer, over the deck. She felt a twinge of pity for the man. Once he'd been a decorated officer, feared and respected by sailors and pirates alike, and now look at him: cleaning the deck of a pirate vessel, the lowest on the pecking order.

"Jack!"

Elizabeth's voice brought Squirrel's attention back around. Gibbs and Jack were standing together, discussing something; they looked up as the women came towards them.

"Good morning, Miss Swann," Jack said, his gold teeth glinting in his smile. "Sleep well?" Squirrel tried to hide her disappointment in being ignored. Jack didn't even look at her. His smile was only for Miss Swann.

Elizabeth shook the leather packet at Jack. "This," she said, "Was what Will was going to trade you," she said, her voice half-harsh. "He was going to bring you back to Port Royal, and Beckett would give you these in exchange for this compass of yours." She touched it at her belt; Squirrel looked at it enviously, but only briefly.

Jack's smile vanished, and a strange - alarmed? - look appeared instead. Gibbs was even more so. Squirrel recognised the name, and felt her hands stray to her dagger instinctively.

"Beckett?" Jack took the packet from Elizabeth and opened it out.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, moving next to Gibbs and peering over Jack's shoulder. "See? They're signed. Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company."

"Eaagh." Jack pulled a face, sticking out his tongue. He still looked back at the letters he held, but he held them as though they were a dead rat wearing a diamond collar.

"What would a lord be doing offering pardon to a pirate?" She scowled.

"This ain't a pardon," Jack said, looking at the contents of the packet with some manner of disgust. "They're letters of marque."

Squirrel blinked. Letters of marque? These letters meant that Jack could sail his pirate flag and hunt down ships as any pirate would, only this time, they wouldn't be chased like rats for it. They would be _allowed_ to be pirates. It was a pardon, of sorts… So why was Jack so unhappy with it?

"Will was working for Beckett and never said a word," Gibbs frowned.

"Aagh…" Jack clutched at his arm, where he wore the pirate brand.

"No, he wasn't," Squirrel protested. She looked to Elizabeth. "Will was working for _you_, Miss Swann." She looked back to Gibbs. "That's why he didn't mention Beckett. Because Beckett didn't matter to him. Only Elizabeth did. That's why he wanted the compass, remember? To free Elizabeth."

"Is that what you're thinkin', Miss Grey?" Jack said absently, flicking his eyes up from the letters. Squirrel flushed, hearing that same suggestion in his tone from earlier: _You fancy the lad_? Elizabeth looked at Squirrel, gratefully, yet wanting to know more about her precious Will. Squirrel just looked away.

"Beckett wants the compass." Gibbs' scowl deepened. "Only one reason for that."

Jack was sour-faced. "Of course. He wants the chest."

"Yes," Elizabeth put in, "He did say something about a chest." She quietened at Jack's raised eyebrow.

Gibbs was lost in his thoughts, and they weren't happy ones. "If the Company controls the chest, they control the sea."

"A truly discomforting notion, luv," Jack turned to Elizabeth, as if to impress upon her the gravity of the situation.

Gibbs did the same. "And bad! Bad for every mother's son what calls himself pirate."

Squirrel interrupted impatiently. "How does anyone, let alone a lord, know about your compass, Jack?" She asked, keeping her eyes on Jack until he turned to face her. She paused a moment - Jack didn't answer, and his face was a careful and unreadable mask. "Let alone that," she continued, unnerved by Jack's silence, "But how does a l-lord of the East India Trading Company," she near spat the words - damn bastards - "Know about the legend of Davy Jones? Even the d-details of how he controls the Kraken? It's not exactly c-common knowledge." _We had to go to a remote island - populated with cannibals - and talk to a voodoo witch in order to find the details behind the story of the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. And yet Beckett knew about it before we did_.

Gibbs looked very near to spitting. "I think there's a bit more wind to be coaxed from these sails, don't you?" He hurried off to start barking orders at the crew. "Brace the foreyard!"

Jack continued to stare at Squirrel, saying nothing, not even moving. Finally, he shook his head. "Now's not the time for such questions," He said quietly. "Go about your duties, Miss Grey."

Squirrel nearly exploded with a protest, but stopped herself. Jack's silent refusal to talk had revealed something. She'd been able to read something behind that poker face of his.

_He knows Beckett. Not just by name or reputation, either. Her eyes strayed to his sleeve. You wear a pirate brand, Jack Sparrow. You had heard the name 'Beckett' and winced - Beckett had surely given you the brand. But, you must have known Beckett before then. But from where? _She ducked her head, frowning_. I'll withdraw from this game… for now_.

Jack turned his back on Squirrel, dismissing her. "May I enquire as to how you came to possess these?"

Elizabeth's face was nearly scathing. "Persuasion."

"Friendly?"

"Decidedly not."

"Will makes a deal and upholds it with honour," Jack said flippantly, prompting a shadow of pain to cross Elizabeth's face. "And yet you stand here with the prize."

Squirrel fumed behind Jack's back. _You're a fine one to talk about honour_. She moved away, walking slowly, half-turned from Jack, still watching his face and hands and feeling a dull ache in her heart.

Jack held up the letters and read them nonchalantly. "Full pardon, commissioned as a privateer on behalf of England…"

Squirrel shook her head as she leaned against the railing, just out of earshot. _Jack, why not take this opportunity? Why not simply accept the pardon offered to you? You'd still be free, Jack. Nothing would change._

_Though it wouldn't be the same, would it. It wouldn't be the same as being a free pirate. He'd be accountable. And things would be expected of him. Jack wouldn't want that - Jack wants to be free. Completely free._ She sighed, understanding now. _Besides, who'd want to be employed by a man like Beckett?_

The deck was full of movement, of men crossing the deck and shouting and swinging and running. Yet one movement caught her eye. The snapping to alertness of one of the men, the subtle lifting of a head to listen, to hear, to understand. The scenting of prey.

Norrington had heard about the letters of marque.

Squirrel slowly straightened, keeping her eyes on the former commodore, feeling wary, almost alarmed. She looked over at Jack, and saw him tucking the letters into his coat. Squirrel turned her head back. The former commodore dropped the cloth he was scrubbing the deck with into the bucket of water beside him, assuming the air of someone with the upper hand. Nonchalantly, he rose to his feet and walked away. His path took him past Squirrel; noticing her watching him, he stopped, and offered a half-smile. "Good morning, Miss Grey."

Squirrel nodded in return. "Norrington." She made a show looking around him, at where the neglected bucket was being commandeered by another swab. "Is there a reason why you're leaving your duties?"

Norrington shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing in particular." There was a grace to his movement and something in his smirk which brought colour to Squirrel's face. To hide this, she shook her head in knowing disbelief, playing her part in this charade. As she did so, her eye caught sight of Jack. What she saw nearly made her cry out.

"_Persuade me_."

Though Elizabeth was not showing any interest in Jack whatsoever, the simple fact that the pair of them were so close together was painful. They were looking into each other's eyes, close enough to kiss… Squirrel looked away, feeling hurt, jealous, angry, saddened, all at once. Her face lay unguarded, open… until she remembered who she'd been talking to. Squirrel looked up, and found herself facing Norrington's knowingly raised eyebrow.

"I have to ask, Miss Grey," he said conversationally, smirking somewhat, "What is a woman of your quality doing aboard a pirate ship?"

Squirrel controlled her embarrassment and fear. "If you're finished with your duties here, former commodore," she said evenly, "Perhaps you could go down to the hold. The animal pens haven't been cleaned for a long month."

His smirk never faded. "Of course, my dear," he said, softly mocking, "Whatever you want."

Squirrel's flush deepened. "On your way." She pushed past him, hiding her face from him. She moved to the railing and turned back; her eyes locked on Jack, held him, and followed him as he swayed and sashayed his way to his cabin. As soon as the door closed, Squirrel closed her eyes, severing Jack from her sight but holding him in her memory. She sighed deeply, as though winded. Squirrel pushed the hood from her face, exasperated and uncertain, and turned to the sun. Her mask had slipped, and Norrington had seen her.

_Ah, let him think what he will_, she thought sadly. _It doesn't matter. It's not as though what I want and what Jack want are the same thing_. Squirrel remembered Elizabeth, and suddenly a green steel dagger seemed to pierce her heart. Where was Elizabeth now? Turning, Squirrel found Elizabeth was leaning on the rail not far from where she stood. She looked to be laughing at some private joke. Norrington was moving towards her with clear purpose.

"It's a curious thing," Norrington commented wryly, leaning nonchalantly on the railing. "There was a time when I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking about me."

Elizabeth ducked her head in the same manner Squirrel would have done. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do," Norrington smirked.

Elizabeth looked uncomfortable. "Oh, don't be absurd. I trust him, that's all."

Elizabeth's choice of words - _don't be absurd_ - echoed strangely in Squirrel. She'd said the same thing only a night before. She'd stood at almost the same spot where Elizabeth now stood, only in the midst of a tropical storm late at night instead of on a clear, bright day. Both times meant the same thing - _I don't love this_ _man_. Squirrel had meant Will, and now, Elizabeth meant Jack. Squirrel steeled herself with this relief, and the dagger in her heart vanished. Foolish womanly fears, nothing more. Determined to put an end to this, Squirrel called out.

"Commodore!" Both Elizabeth and Norrington looked up, the latter with some measure of amused annoyance. Squirrel jerked her head over her shoulder, keeping her face as expressionless as possible. "I do believe I gave you an order."

Norrington just smirked at Squirrel. "So you did." He pulled himself lazily - gracefully - upright, and started to walk away. As he reached Squirrel, he turned back to Elizabeth, throwing one last word over his shoulder. "So you never wondered how your latest fiancé ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place?" He turned back, giving a smile - a predatory, knowing, _blackmailing_ smile - as a parting gift before going below. Squirrel flushed, caught in this cat's cradle of deception; she risked looking up, and found herself pinioned under Elizabeth's pleading gaze.

"Don't mind him," Squirrel said firmly, though her throat was dry. "He's just sore."

"But it's not like James to say something like that," Elizabeth said faintly. Her eyes hardened, the gaze holding Squirrel down. "What really happened to Will?"

"He was taken under duress," Squirrel said truthfully, though it was such a lie. "He had no choice."

"Did you?" Elizabeth asked faintly. "Could you have saved Will?" Her lovely brown eyes widened in alarm. "Could Jack have saved Will?"

Squirrel looked away and closed her eyes for a second, a mere second. "No," she said, looking Elizabeth dead in the eye. "He couldn't have." With a regretful look at the sighing lady, Squirrel turned and walked away, her gut churning._ Please, let that be the last lie I ever have to tell for Jack Sparrow._

_It wasn't really a lie_, a voice told her languidly. _You were telling the truth - Jack couldn't have saved Will. He couldn't have… because he didn't want to. He was too busy saving himself_.

She crossed the deck with heavy steps, her eyes low.


	11. Silver And Blue

**Disclaimer**: Brawk! Don't sue me! Don't sue me!

**A/N**: A slightly shorter chapter this time… And a rather fashion-conscious Squirrel, too. This is basically a skippable chapter, if you think about it… but it's full of little details I just had to put in. Read at your own peril.

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The sea had always calmed her. She didn't know why, but the sight of it was soothing. Perhaps it was the simple size of it, how it stretched to the ends of the Earth. Perhaps because it was in deep shades of blue, a comforting colour. Perhaps it was because, in line with the sky, it reminded Squirrel of how small she was, and how lucky she was to have what she did. Perhaps because it was a sign of her freedom, the freedom she'd wished for and finally gained.

Squirrel looked out at the sea today, and did not feel calmed. She kept her eyes down, away from the horizon, focusing instead on the wash from the side of the ship. The sea broiled and hissed with white foam as the Pearl's timbers raked it. Squirrel watched the constant stream of white - that angry, frothing mass - and tried to empty her mind of all thoughts. But her stomach and her mind were just as turbulent as the ship's wake.

_Will… Norrington… Mother, father… Elizabeth… Tia Dalma… Dawn… Davy Jones… Jack Sparrow…_ Names and thoughts and events all pushed and shoved, jostling each other in order to try to gain her attention. As a result, Squirrel didn't know what to think, what to dwell on. She just stared down at the foam.

"Arrgh!"

Squirrel lifted her head and looked along the rails. Three of the new deckhands had been hauling water from the sea to be used in cleaning the deck. They stood in a huddle, their backs to Squirrel, cursing and swearing at something.

Glad of something to distract her, Squirrel left the rails and moved towards the swabs. "What's going on here?" She asked, putting all the authority she could muster into her voice. The three new crewmen looked over; resentful, leering, unimpressed.

"Blasted thing won't let go," one of them said, holding a mop out to Squirrel, handle first. She recoiled slightly, expecting a blow, recovered when the realised it was foolish, then leant forward to examine what the swabs had been so afraid of.

A strange creature had been drawn up from the sea along with water, and had not welcomed its capture. It had leapt up, swarming around the mop's handle, hugging its mouth to the wood. Its appearance had no doubt been responsible for the shout of alarm. Squirrel would have yelped as well, though not from alarm or fear - that strange sea creature reminded her of one of the names that had been circling in her thoughts. _Davy Jones_… She kept the thought to herself, kept it off her face.

"It's just a squid," She said, looking at the deckhands curiously. "What's wrong?"

"I need the mop, don't I?" One of the crewmen said snarkily, as though he'd expected a woman to be so dense about the importance of one's duties. "And the blasted thing won't let go."

With an irritated sigh, Squirrel grabbed the mop from him, and reached for the writhing mass of tentacles. The squid saw her hand coming towards it, and hugged closer to the pole. Some of its tentacles lashed out, grabbing flesh and tearing away. Squirrel bit her lip to keep from crying out - that hurt! She remembered how Gibbs had said the Kraken had the power to suction a man's face clean off. This squid clearly had that kind of aspirations for when it got older.

"Having trouble, missy?" One of the men sneered. Squirrel gave him a scathing look. Then, steeling herself, she grabbed a hold of the squid's tube-like body with one hand, and pulled. The squid just held on tighter to the mop handle, its tentacles flailing. Irritated now, Squirrel twisted at the thing, wrenching it free. Was it her imagination, or did it cry out? It must have been her imagination - the squid had a much stronger response. A thick jet of black slime spurted through the air, hitting Squirrel right in the face.

The swabs brayed with laughter, and other men watching joined in. Even men who didn't know what events had transpired laughed at the woman holding a writhing squid, her face and clothes splattered in ink. Squirrel felt herself go hotly red. _Brilliant_, the voice mocked her. _Absolutely brilliant_. Angry, she crushed the squid in her fist before throwing it overboard. It would live, but it would be very sore. _Serves it right_.

"Well done, missy," the first deckhand sniggered. "You fought a creature of the deep and came off unscathed. Almost, anyway." He hawed again with laughter, and his mates joined in.

"Well," Squirrel said calmly, "It's not like you _men_ could have done any better." She wiped the ink from her face. "Back to your duties." She walked off with as much dignity as she could muster, but was flushing bright red.

She did not check herself until she was below, and back in the curtained area where her bunk was. The mirror on the wall showed her a blackened face, like a velvet mask which covered the right side of her face. Her cloak had been stained, but it was a minor stain, one which could be easily washed out. Her blouse and vest, however… Ruined. But they were already old, so it was no surprise that this was the last straw.

Her sea chest contained only one other shirt: a short sleeved shirt, blue as the ocean itself. In days with naught to do, Squirrel taken to it with needle and thread, embroidering it with patterns of flowers and waves and other interesting shapes. The white thread against the deep blue of the cloth was very striking, and the shirt itself was of beautiful quality. But she'd never worn it, because the short sleeves meant that the burns on her arms would be exposed. She'd always worn blouses with sleeves that covered her arms.

_But why?_ She wondered, raising an eyebrow at her reflection. _Why should I be ashamed of them?_ _I shouldn't be - its part of who I am_. With that galvanising thought, she turned from the mirror, and went to fetch her sea chest. The shirt was just where she'd left it, and she smiled as she pulled it out. Unrolling the shirt, a small cloth bundle tumbled out from the folds and landed at Squirrel's feet. Curious, Squirrel picked it up. It was the present from Anamaria. Her goodbye present. Squirrel smiled, and allowed her mind to drift back to the memory of their parting.

_Ana crossed the deck, her belongings all in a canvas bag hanging from her shoulder. Squirrel - once again on duty for the night - walked with her friend, head down, not knowing what to say._

"_I've been meaning to do this for quite some time," Ana said, as soft as the night around them. "Earn myself enough money to get that boat of mine back…Well, I've done it, and here I go." She sighed, looked around at the _Pearl_ and up at the stars. "I won't say I won't miss this, though."_

_Squirrel nodded, though sadly. "Good luck, wherever the wind takes you."_

_Ana gave Squirrel a quick hug. "Don't worry about me, girl." She looked knowingly at Squirrel for a moment, then added, "You're the only woman on the _Pearl_ now… You take care of yourself, you hear me?"_

_Squirrel laughed, though tears stung her eyes. "I will. Don't w-worry."_

"_And don't let Jack hurt you, either." Ana's eyes turned unusually stony._

_Squirrel was surprised. "He wouldn't hurt me."_

_Ana sighed, nodding; unconvinced. "Course he wouldn't. Just…" She seemed to search for the right thing to say. Eventually, she sighed and said, "Just be careful. Sometimes things aren't always like you want them to be."_

_Squirrel tilted her head, not understanding. Ana sighed, waved it off, made to cross the gangplank. But something held her back. She pulled a small package from out of her tunic and threw it to Squirrel._

"_Here," Ana said, "Maybe these'll come in handy someday."_

_Squirrel unwrapped the cloth package with nimble fingers, then looked up at Ana, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "Ana… Thankyou."_

_Ana nodded, and waved. "Adieu, Squ'rl-girl." She stepped off the _Pearl_. Squirrel watched as her friend was swallowed up by the night, then stared at the two silver earrings Anamaria had left her._

Squirrel stared at the silver hoops. They were beautiful - simple, but beautiful. Squirrel had never worn them… how could she? Her ears weren't pierced. Regretfully, Squirrel made to put the earrings back in the chest, but something stopped her. _Why shouldn't I get my ears pierced? Ana gave me these - I should wear them. Besides… they're too beautiful to leave at the bottom of a box. _

_And Jack might notice them, too._

With a pink-faced smile, Squirrel tucked the cloth bundle into her belt, then gathered together a few more things from her sea chest: a small lacquered mirror, a stoppered bottle, a chunk of pumice, and a washcloth. She needed a decent bath - the squid gave her an excuse to have one today.

Months ago, when Squirrel had first arrived on the _Pearl_, she'd found a small room in the timbers of the ship, small and well-hidden. A strange warp in the timbers meant that rainwater from the deck was channelled down into it. Squirrel had slid an empty barrel inside to catch the water, which she used in her ablutions. The room and its tiny size gave her privacy and a sense of security. It was as though this room was made for her.

She headed there now, walking carefully through the hold until she came to it. The door was hidden - it didn't even look like a door. Squirrel found the loose plank and gently pulled, and then slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.

Fumbling in the darkness, she found the shelf where the candles she'd brought with her from Tortuga stood, along with the flint. After a few tries, she managed to light the candles, and soon the room was bathed in a warm yellow glow. The barrel in the corner was full, and the water was fresh; it had rained only last night.

_The night Will was taken by Davy Jones_…

Squirrel set down her things and slowly peeled off her clothing. Her cloak first, then her vest and blouse; her boots, belt, and all the attached paraphernalia; her breeches, socks and stockings; the light tunics she wore as undergarments. Squirrel huffed a little in irritation as she peeled off the various layers of clothing. Sure, the light tunics were good for hygiene and protection from men who thought with organs other than their brains, but aboard the _Pearl_, did she really need to wear so much? The crew respected her, and were her friends. She was in no danger. Also, in the Caribbean sun, she wilted quickly, simply due to the layers of clothes she wore. No wonder she was so pale - she couldn't stand the heat. She wanted a bit more colour to her, like that healthy brown glow Elizabeth had.

_Maybe I should wear a bit less_, Squirrel thought, tossing the last of her tunics to the floor. As she did so, she caught sight of something strange on her right arm.

Dawn had left her mark on Squirrel. Jealousy and malice had been responsible for those burns on Squirrel's arm. _You think you're better than me? _Dawn had pressed Squirrel into that hot iron plate relentlessly, laughing all the while. Strange patterns bloomed from where the cloth of Squirrel's shirt had been scorched into her skin; the skin was now a different colour where the burns ended. Dawn had marked her cousin, scarred her for life.

But something had changed. There was a new pattern in the burns.

Squirrel stared, unbelieving, but there was no denying it. There was a handprint on her arm, a clear space of new, clean skin in the midst of the old burns. When had this happened? And how?

_Jack_.

Squirrel blinked, remembering. He'd grabbed her arm and held on to her, made her read his compass. The sleeve of her blouse had stuck to her skin because Jack had shaken hands with Davy Jones. It was his handprint on her arm. Squirrel shook her head, disbelieving, but couldn't take her eyes from the shape of Jack's hand - his fingers, his thumb, his palm. All those salves and oils she'd used on her burns, trying to calm them and stop them from hurting… And Jack's touch had simply healed them.

_Ah_, a voice insinuated, _But was it really thanks to Jack Sparrow? Or should you be thanking Davy Jones?_

Squirrel lowered her arm, not knowing what to think. Shrugging and storing the thought away for later, she moved to the barrel of water and began her ablutions. She splashed herself with water from the barrel, sanded at her legs and underarms with the pumice, and cleaned all that ink off of her face, checking it was all gone in the small mirror. When she was done, she re-dressed herself. This time, she didn't wear any tunics, just her breast bindings, the vest, and the blue shirt; she left the socks aside, and just wore the stockings under the boots. She felt lighter, and cooler too. Before leaving, she uncorked the stoppered bottle, and thumbed a few drops around her neck: lavender oil. She liked the smell of lavender, and she wore it when she could. Smiling, Squirrel gathered up her belongings in her cloak and slipped out.

The cloth bundle at her belt reminded her about her earrings. She'd almost forgotten about them. After dropping her surplus belongings in her sea chest, Squirrel went to the galley, looking for Gibbs.

It was as though she hadn't left the night before - all of her 'family' was still there. Pintel and Ragetti were frowning over the Bible, Ragetti mouthing words as Pintel read; Cotton was paring his nails, his feet up on the table; Marty was patching a tear in his shirt, and Gibbs was stirring a cauldron of what Gibbs called 'bubbling mass'. Squirrel paused at the doorway, awkward and shy. She surreptitiously draped her cloak over her burned arm, out of habit; but she had a new reason for not wanting people to see her arm now.

Cotton's parrot greeted her with its customary demand: "Pieces of eight!" Heads turned to her, and welcoming smiles appeared on every face.

"You're just in time, lass," Gibbs said, holding out the wooden spoon. "Tell me what you think." Squirrel tasted the stew dutifully, and nodded in appreciation. His cooking had improved greatly. Gibbs grinned, then set the spoon aside. "So, what brings you down here, Miss Grey?"

Squirrel took a breath, readying herself. "I want you to p-pierce my ears."

Gibbs raised a surprised eyebrow. "Why would that be, Miss?"

Squirrel procured the earrings, unwrapping them for inspection. "Ana gave these to me, before she left…" She shrugged, pulling forth a suitable excuse; something other than '_because I think they'll make me pretty and Jack would notice_'. "I don't want them to get stolen."

Gibbs nodded sagely. "Fair enough." He brushed the hoops with a finger. "These are fine silver, Miss Grey. They'll look lovely on you." Squirrel blushed and ducked her head with a smile.

"'Ere," Marty said, stopping his sewing and handing the needle to Gibbs, "Take a seat, Miss. It might 'urt a bit."

Squirrel nodded, gritting her teeth. "I know." She sat down carefully, watching as Gibbs ran the needle through the flame of a candle.

"Best chew on this," Marty handed her a length of leather, folded and twisted. "You don't want to bite off your tongue." Squirrel gratefully took the leather and bit down on it.

"This will hurt," Gibbs said apologetically, brushing back Squirrel's hair and taking hold of her right ear. "Ready?"

Before Squirrel could nod, the red-hot needle pierced her earlobe and slid through with a slight hiss and the smell of cauterised flesh. She gave a muffled yelp, tears springing to her eyes. For a moment, she remembered the way she'd been pressed against the hot iron in the tavern kitchen, and expected to see Dawn laughing in the corner.

"Alright?" Gibbs asked, looking at her with some concern. "You ready for the next ear?"

Squirrel whimpered, but nodded. Gibbs slowly drew the needle out, then stood and moved to the flame again. When the needle was red-hot once again, Gibbs returned, and sat to her left. Squirrel screwed her eyes shut and gave another cry as it pierced her other earlobe.

"There," Gibbs said, pulling the needle free. "Done!" He picked the earrings off the cloth and carefully inserted them into Squirrel's ears. "Best keep 'em in place for a few weeks," he said, "In case the hole closes over."

Squirrel took the piece of leather out of her mouth and wiped away her tears. "Aye. Thankyou." Gibbs nodded, glad to be of service.

"You know," Marty said, taking the needle back from Gibbs, "The silver of those earrings and the amulet looks good together with that new shirt, Miss Grey." He grinned a little impishly, and added, "And, if it's not too bold, you've never looked more a woman, either."

Squirrel flushed at the compliment, but smiled back at her friend. She looked down, where her amulet rested between her collarbones and the open collar of her shirt. The silver and blue did go well together. And the shirt did make her have more of a womanly figure, too.

"You should leave your hair out like that," Pintel offered, nonchalantly letting his eyes brush over her. "Looks better than when it's tied up."

Squirrel reached back and touched her hair. She hadn't realised it was undone. The leather tie must have slipped off. She nodded her (dubious) thanks to Pintel, before rising to her feet. She stood behind Gibbs, and looked at the content of the cooking pot. The stew looked and smelled nearly ready.

"Hungry, Miss Grey?" Gibbs grinned.

Squirrel smiled to herself. "I am, actually."

Gibbs ladled a healthy - and generous - portion onto a plate. "Well, I've a duty for you first." He handed her the plate, "Take this to the captain, will you?" Seeing the look on Squirrel's face, Gibbs shrugged. "Captain's got to eat first, Miss Grey. You know the rules."

Squirrel sighed, then gingerly accepted the plate. "Alright." She slid the cloak off her arm and handed it to Gibbs with an impish smile. "But I leave this as a security, to make sure I get something to eat when I come back."

The crew laughed at her joke, and Squirrel smiled and blushed. She turned and waved farewell over her shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said, leaving the galley with a grin, "I won't be long!"

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**A/N**: Famous last words, maybe:D Heheh. Jack and Squirrel's alone time is in the next chappie. Reviews make me do a happy dance.


	12. Fire

**Disclaimer**: Persuasion… decidedly unfriendly.

**A/N**: Happy (belated) Talk Like A Pirate Day! (19th September 2006 :D)  
Just a quick note about the previous chapters - the Bible verses contain foreshadowing. See if you can spot what I mean. I'm surprised no-one commented on the squid's savage attack on Squirrel because I thought it was comment-worthy. And filled with foreshadowing. Kudos and thanks to CompYES and Sentinel Sparrow for being constant reviewers. Cookies and rum-and-raisin ice-cream to you both.  
This chapter took a little longer than expected, but hey, here it is. It's just what the doctor ordered. Please don't kill me if it doesn't turn out how you want. Rating's going up, btw, due to this chapter. Ye be warned.

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That song was back again. Squirrel found herself humming it under her breath. It was strange - she had no idea where it had come from. She'd certainly never heard it before. Not played out loud. Only in her head. It was as though the music were coming from a dream.

Squirrel continued to hum the tune to herself emerged on deck, a smile on her face as the beautiful notes danced in her head and in her heart. Perhaps one day she'd find out where this beautiful and sad song came from. For now, though, she had other things to think about. Like, lunch, for instance. She reached Jack's door and opened it, still humming as she stepped inside.

Jack jumped, slamming shut the lid of the chest with the air of a guilty man, and whirled to face her. "Try knocking," he shouted, then checked himself when he saw who had disturbed him.

Squirrel blanched, just as surprised as he was. She'd opened the door to his room expecting him to not be there. She'd expected the room to be just as it was when she'd broken in last night: empty. She'd never stopped to think that maybe he'd be in here.

_But why shouldn't he be? This is his cabin, remember?_

"I did," Squirrel said, trying to recover her scattered wits.

Jack frowned curiously, watching her. "I didn't hear you."

The colour returned to Squirrel's face, and then even more so. "I brought your lunch," she said, taking an uncertain step forward.

Jack turned away, disinterested and dismissing. "Not hungry." He ran his fingers over the edge of the chest, clearly itching to open it again and re-examine the contents.

Squirrel bowed her head, hiding a hurt expression. "I'll leave it here for you anyway, Captain." She moved to the table, and cleared a space for the plate. The smell of the stew was making her mouth water - Gibbs had done well this time. She was looking forward to a plate of it herself.

"I never got to thank you, luv."

Squirrel looked up, and found Jack standing on the other side of the table, his eyes on her. Squirrel flushed again. Her heart beat out a rapid tattoo. "What for?"

Jack smiled and moved fluidly around the far side of the table. "Oh, come, luv. No need to be so modest." He grinned. "You're more than just a pretty face."

Squirrel's heart beat faster from two different kinds of panic. The first: _He must know. He must know I broke in. I've been caught._ The second kind of panic was simply this: _I'm in his cabin. In his cabin with him_. _With Captain Jack Sparrow_. _…_ _and he thinks I'm pretty?_

Jack sauntered over to the chest of drawers, grinning to himself all the while, as though at some great joke he were about to share. He opened one of the drawers - the one full of dried sea critters and assorted wildlife - and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

Squirrel's heart leapt into her throat, and she couldn't help but stare.

Jack held up the papers. "Gibbs gave me these," he said, noticing and enjoying Squirrel's obvious alarm and discomfort. With affected nonchalance, he flipped through the papers, looking impressed. "You did a good job with the inventory, luv. Powder, food, livestock…" His eyes were dark and smoky. "You're very into the details, aren't you?"

Squirrel looked away, feeling sick to her stomach. She'd tried to bury this knowledge since last night, tried to forget the role she'd played. Yet Jack was intent on reminding her.

He considered her with a tilted head. "How many men did you count coming aboard last night?" He smiled charmingly. "Not counting meself and yourself, of course."

Squirrel closed her eyes, her gut churning. "One hundred and five," she whispered, her voice strangely hoarse. She felt terrible - worse than she'd ever felt - having to count the commodore, Elizabeth, Gibbs and the rest of her family in this count. But her captain had asked a question which she answered as surely as though it were a direct order.

Squirrel knew she was going to be sick if Jack kept this up.

"You know how many men we were able to hire last night?"

Squirrel shook her head.

"Four," Jack said, coming back towards the light of the table's candles, the inventory lists still in his hands. "Five, if you count the commodore." He looked intently at Squirrel, though she tried to avoid his gaze. "Five. Yet somehow, the count stands at a hundred and five. That leaves about 90 men unaccounted for, seeing as Elizabeth joined of her own free will," he smiled at the unintentional pun, "And with the other five crewmen already aboard." He looked puzzled, but mockingly so; his hands twisted and turned in the air. "Ninety men, luv. Ninety men."

"I can count, you know." Squirrel snapped, her temper rising to fight the queasiness of her conscience. "And it's ninety-eight."

Jack merely looked amused. "I know, luv." He carried the lists back around the other side of the table, "You're very good at countin'. You're good with numbers." He grinned. "But that's not all you're good at, aye?"

Squirrel wanted to turn around and run, but instead she grit her teeth and held her ground. "What are you talking about?" She asked, even though she knew full well.

"You were born on Tortuga," Jack said, his voice a knowing burr, his hands sawing the air. "You know it well. You know what kind of men men have to be to want to put into that kind of port; what kind of men will _willingly_ put into that kind of port."

Squirrel looked at Jack scathingly. "Are you referring to the condition of their souls, captain?"

Jack refused to rise to the bait. He waved the papers at Squirrel, just out of her reach. "You've said you can read men, luv. And I don't doubt that." He looked sidelong at her, taunting. "I'm not angry, luv," Jack smiled. He consulted the list one more time. "I'm impressed. Given your strict moral compass, I'm surprised you were willing to stoop so low in order to save my…" He paused, tapping his chin with the papers, "What was it you said? 'Slimy hide'?"

Squirrel had nothing to say.

Jack threw the lists on the table with the air of a man throwing down a winning hand. "That there is ten times more rum than a crew this size needs. Enough for a barrel for every man aboard. Enough rum to sink a ship, luv. Or, at the very least, enough rum to draw ninety men from over Tortuga." He pinned her with his eyes. "They followed the rum, luv. The rum you wanted. The rum you ordered. And you knew they would. After all, don't you have a talent for reading men? And you'd know men from your hometown better'n any." Squirrel flushed, wanting to look away, but she couldn't. She couldn't tear her eyes from Jack. He continued, "You must've emptied a warehouse with that order of yours."

"The entire north warehouse," Squirrel whispered, her voice low. "And from the dock-side 'house too."

Jack looked pleased. "So the angel who hovers around my shoulder has a devilish streak after all."

Squirrel flushed, angry, guilty, ashamed, and more. This game was all in Jack's favour. She had no chance, no hope. He was playing her for a fool.

"Don't feel so bad," Jack said breezily, flitting around his cabin with affected nonchalance. "You did what you felt was right. What you had to do, aye?" He grinned at her, gold teeth glinting. "That's a pirate's way, luv."

Squirrel snorted, forcing a bravado she was too disheartened to feel. "I didn't think it was right!" She faced Jack, though her eyes were stinging and her heart was pounding. "But I did it anyway! And I hate myself for doing it!" Anger chased the tears. "And what does it matter, anyway? With Davy Jones' heart in your possession, you won't need those men. They don't matter. In the long run, it doesn't matter what I did."

"Not the point," Jack said lazily, leaning against the wall and examining his nails. "You were still willing to condemn men to death for me." He put a hand over his heart. "I'm touched, luv. Truly. You did say you were willing to do anything for me, but I must say I wasn't expecting this." He tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. "Is this your way of paying me back for saving your life?"

Squirrel scowled, but was caught off-guard. "What?"

Jack counted off on his fingers. "You were burned, you were shot, and you almost drowned." Jack shrugged. "Seeing as how I've saved you three times, I guess this means you only have to save me two more times before we're square."

The man's arrogance was infuriating. "This isn't about your ego, Jack! It's not all about you!"

Jack shrugged, smiling in that way which might have made Squirrel melt. "_Really_? I beg to differ."

Squirrel shook her head, disgusted, and turned to leave. "You know, the sooner we get to Isla Cruces the better," she muttered. "Then I won't have to put up with this nonsense. And the men can go back and live their lives as free men. Not to mention the condition of my own conscience, which should…"

"I beg your pardon?"

Squirrel stopped, her hand on the doorhandle. Something in Jack's tone sounded almost… threatening. What had she said? What had made Jack…?

_Oh, no_.

Clearing her throat, Squirrel tried to recover herself. "I've delivered your meal, c-captain," she couldn't help but stutter in nervousness, "I have other d-duties to attend to. Good day."

"Not now you don't." Jack's footfalls were swift, and she soon felt him stand right behind her. "What did you say?"

Trapped. Squirrel turned back to face Jack, putting a mask on that almost slipped. He was a foot from her, looking at her with such intensity it was alarming. His closeness and his gaze made her feel hot under the collar, though for two separate but very related reasons.

"I said," Squirrel said, blushing bright red, "The sooner we find Davy Jones' heart, the better."

"Isla Cruces," Jack said, frowning at her. "You said 'Isla Cruces'. Where'd you hear about that, luv?"

Squirrel said nothing, but looked down and away. The clear space in the shadow of her burns caught her eye. The shape of Jack's hand on her arm silently accused her, just as the man himself.

"How did you know about it?" He repeated.

Squirrel took a breath. _No more hiding - play the game. _"I broke in here," she said frankly, looking straight at Jack. "After you lent me the compass, I broke into your cabin, and I found the charts." She looked away, examining a candle at the other end of the room. "I used your charts, Jack, and I figured out where Davy Jones is likely to have hidden his heart. That's all." _Your move, Jack_.

"So. You knew." His eyes were dark and fathomless. "You knew where fish-face's heart was hidden." He clenched his fist, obviously mastering his temper. "So when were you planning on telling me?"

Squirrel looked away again, feeling as foolish as a child. "L-later."

"How later?" Jack asked, the warmth gone from his voice. "Later, as in after Captain Calamari-for-brains caught up to me? After I sank into the black depths of despair? After trading over ninety-nine men? After _what_, exactly?"

Squirrel screwed up her eyes to try and stem the tears. "I don't know! I would have told you… but I was angry…"

Jack laughed shortly. "Angry? You were angry at me?" Squirrel felt his thumb brush at her eyes, wiping away her tears, and she froze, unable to move. She opened her eyes, and stared. Jack smiled infuriatingly - beautifully - at her. "Angry for why, luv?"

Squirrel swallowed, nervous as hell, mentally fumbling with the cards she no longer held. "You broke your promise," her voice was near inaudible, "I thought I could trust you, but I don't think… I can…"

Jack lowered his head, inches from her face. "Never trust a pirate," he whispered, the breath of his words brushing her lips. A fresh shade of scarlet whispered across Squirrel's face. Jack smiled, his eyes sparkling, before pulling back and giving her room enough to draw breath.

Squirrel tried to gather her wits, to pick up the cards she'd dropped from previous game. Jack's hands flickered through the air, hitching themselves into his belt by the thumbs, and the pirate himself looked down at her with a small smile playing around his lips. He had the air of a man in control, and small wonder - Squirrel was falling apart. Red in the face, Squirrel put a hand over the void in her burns, and half-turned to leave.

"Thankyou," Jack said.

Squirrel turned back, surprised. "F-for what?"

There was no mocking amusement in his eyes, no teasing in his smile. "Even though you didn't want to," he said softly, "Thankyou for buying the extra rum. For bringin' the extra crew aboard. Even though you felt bad about doin' it, thankyou." He shrugged. "There, I said it. Thankyou for saving my life." He added with a smile, "Such as it is."

Squirrel felt her grief and guilt evaporate as she nodded. "You're welcome." She managed a half-smile back at him. "And thank_you_."

His beads clinked as he tilted his head. "For?"

"Saving mine." She smiled a little stronger, though her face was still pink. "Those three times."

Jack grinned, and swayed on the spot slightly. "Not a problem, luv."

_There_. Squirrel felt the cards slip back into her hands. _Game over. You did it. You finally said thankyou. You finally had the courage to come into his cabin and say thankyou_. _Now, you can go_. Squirrel half-turned, then sighed. _No, not yet. This game isn't over yet. _She turned back one last time.

"I have a question," she said, amazed at her own boldness. "What…" She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "What," she said slowly, as though by saying the words she'd ruin this feeling, or bring about some catastrophe in the days ahead, "Do I mean to you?"

Jack's expression did not change, but something in his manner did. Something subtle in the way he stood. It all seemed so fraught with meaning. Everything did, even the candlelight and the noon light through the windows and the shadows on the floor.

"Why do you ask?" Jack said, betraying nothing.

Squirrel shrugged, helplessly red-faced. "I…" _How much do I tell? How much does he know?_ "I want to know what I'm worth."

_It's true. I do want to know_. Squirrel tried not to let any pleading desperation show in her eyes. _I want to know whether I'm just a girl from Tortuga, just another member of the crew, to you. I know I'm not useless, but I want to know if you need me. I want to know how you feel_. _I want to know if I mean anything to you_.

_Because you mean so much to me._

"Do you want an honest answer?"

Squirrel frowned. "What?"

Jack's easy-appearing grin was somewhat disarming, though it seemed something of a mask. "Considering you're asking the question of a dishonest man, you probably won't get the answer you want."

Squirrel felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. "Are you telling the truth?"

Jack shrugged. "Hard to say, luv. After all, I am a dishonest man. And a dishonest man is hardly a good and trustworthy man."

"I don't believe that." Squirrel said quietly. "I think you're a good man." _Or, at least, you could be. You have that potential_. _You just prefer to be this way_.

"That's because you're honest, luv." Jack's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Honest to a fault."

"A fault?"

"Aye," he grinned, this time his grin was more believable. "Stupidity. Honest to the point where you're stupid."

Squirrel returned the jibe. "Oh, and dishonest men are always smart, are they?"

"Didn't say that." He pulled a moue, beaten at his own game.

Squirrel waited, her honest eyes open and patient. The time for jokes was over. She wanted an answer.

Jack paused for a moment. He took a half-step forward, half-step to the side, lithe as a dancer, not taking his eyes from Squirrel's. "You're worth more than you give yourself credit for." He said finally, gently.

Squirrel nodded, accepting the answer. But she looked up at Jack with a glint of melancholy in her eyes. "That doesn't answer my question." She smiled a farewell, turned and set her hand on the doorhandle.

Jack's hand closed over hers, and held on tight.

The copper of the doorhandle sent electric shocks up Squirrel's arm, kick-starting her heart to beat triple-time. Her skin burned, fire coursed through her veins, and all she saw was dancing flames. The sound of her heart was the beat to which those flames danced, faster and faster and faster, like the wings of a tiny bird.

"You could stay," he murmured into her hair, his free hand brushing along the burns on her arm. Each burn seemed to catch fire one more time, leaping from ashes into embers which glowed red-hot.

Her mouth was dry, and every sense blazing beyond common sense. "I… can't stay…" she whispered, still holding onto the handle, her scarred hand pressed palm-first onto the door. Without the solid support of the wood, she would fall. She would fall, and she would blaze out of control. She had to hold on.

Jack peeled Squirrel's hand from the handle, and gently turned her around by her shoulders. Squirrel let go and was lost, lost in his eyes and the burning of her skin. Lost in the closeness of his presence. Jack's breath was close, close and warm. Jack's eyes were a mirror, and they burned into her.

"I could give you a reason," he said, his voice deep and soft and low, pressing close, close to her.

She could hardly breathe. Liquid fire raced through her veins. Jack brushed back her hair, his nimble fingers gently tugging on her ears, on those silver hoops of hers. The pain from the recently-burned flesh seemed to affirm to Squirrel that she was really here. This was no dream. Thoughts of him - no, not thoughts of him, but just _him_ - were bubbling in her brain, headier than any kind of wine. The heat of the candles on her skin was nothing - _nothing_ - compared to Jack's gentle touch. His hands moved from her ears, one closing around her shoulder - her burnt shoulder - the other on her waist. His touch was maddening. His eyes held hers, drawing her into those deep pools. Deeper, deeper deeper she was drowning drowning in the inferno that was Captain Jack Sparrow she was on fire burning burning burning writhing in the flames dancing in the blaze and not caring not wanting to be anywhere else but here with him in his arms… She was on fire.

_Burning_.

Perhaps it had been a quirk of fate, a cruel trick of destiny. Perhaps it had been a sound outside, someone's stumble or cursing, the sound of a seabird or the waves against the hull. Perhaps it had been that strange song she'd heard in her dreams. Perhaps some outside influence had interfered, knowing of something yet to come. Perhaps it had been an old memory, the smell of seared meat and a cousin's cruel laughter. Perhaps it had been a cold shadow passing between the sun and the sea, a distant horror that somehow reached across the water. Perhaps it had been Squirrel's own instinct. Perhaps it had been all of these, and none.

Squirrel turned her head.

Jack's kiss missed its mark, but it burned Squirrel nonetheless. His lips against her cheek were hotter than any metal plate, and twice as painful. Squirrel couldn't help but give something like a pained gasp, the falling final breath of a drowner, the sound of the wind through the canvas in the midst of a storm.

She wanted to turn back, to have him kiss her again, properly, but there was a chill in the pit of her stomach which was spreading, killing the flames in her veins.

Jack seemed to sense the change in her, and pulled back. His eyes still smouldered, but here he waited, patiently. He alone controlled the fire, where Squirrel was simply at its mercy. His hands pulled away, releasing her, and he moved back, putting air and space between them. But he was still close, close enough for Squirrel to see herself reflected in his dark and fathomless eyes. And his hand brushed the print that he'd made in her burns.

Squirrel breathed, unable to form words, unable to think on what she needed to say. But Jack nodded, a silent understanding tempering a desire which threatened them both.

Somehow Squirrel left the cabin, shutting the door behind her. But she had no memory of it. All she heard was the sound of their breath; all she'd felt was his body close to hers, the heat that come from him. All she saw was the beads in Jack's hair, the weave of his braids… the only thing she'd been able to see of him when he'd kissed her.

He'd kissed her.

Squirrel's senses were reeling - was the deck solid beneath her feet, or was it soft and yielding to the soles of her shoes? Where was the sky? Up, or down? Direction had no meaning; she was so dizzy she could barely stand upright. She staggered sideways, to where the wall seemed to offer somewhere sturdy to lean against. The wood was warm from the sun - she felt it though her shirt and through the palm of her hand. Her thoughts were scrambled, nonsensical words and phrases strung randomly together from letters of the alphabet. _Pshg… Nghhl… Frshjl… Eyrlk… Dwrft_… And she was so, so _warm_. A warmth that had nothing to do with the beautiful Caribbean weather. Remembering the smell and the sight of the shadows and the pirate who had taken her in his embrace brought another flush to her face. The sea breeze slowly pulled at the colour, cooling her skin, though the memory kept bringing the heat of the fire back in waves. Sea breeze and fire warred for control.

Squirrel's first coherent thought burst hoarsely from her lips before she'd even had time to consider it. "Stupid!"

The word suited the situation perfectly. She'd spent night after night after night standing outside his door, trying and failing to work up the courage to speak to him. Every night had ended in tears, tears and an aching heart. His embrace was one scenario she'd wished for, dreamt of, wanted desperately, but never thought would ever be. Yet here, today, in the warm light of the sun, she'd stepped into his cabin and been wrapped in his embrace, even if it had only been for… what, all of three minutes? And she was the one who'd turned away. He was even going to kiss her, for crying out loud!

_If he'd kissed me, I never would have been able to stop_.

"Stupid," she sighed, sobered by the thought. Resting her head in one hand, she gathered her scattered thoughts with that one word. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Are you referring to Jack Sparrow?"

Squirrel looked up, still reeling, still blushing. Elizabeth was watching her curiously, a look of concern on her face.

"What?" Squirrel asked, frowning, too lost in her thoughts to be articulate.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, worried. "You look upset."

Squirrel had no idea what her face was doing. She brushed her cheek with her fingers - the spot where Jack had kissed her still retained the imprint of his lips, surely - and found a tear rolling down her face. Alarmed - not to mention confused as to the reason she was crying - Squirrel brushed it away.

"Nothing," she said, smiling at Elizabeth, though the smile came out lopsided and uncertain. "I'm fine."

Elizabeth tilted her head, her eyes lidded in a concerned frown. "Are you sure?"

Squirrel nodded, smiling. "Yes, I'm fine." She spread her hand across the wood, and felt herself slowly find the ground again. Soon, the only rocking would be the _Pearl_'s motion through the waves: a predictable and comforting movement. But the deck was solid beneath her. Solid, dependable, and honest. Squirrel was glad for it.

'Stupid'. Had she been talking about Jack? Surely she'd been talking about herself. 'Stupid' worked for both of them, come to think of it. Squirrel brushed her hair back, her fingers tracing the unfamiliar shape of the hoops in her ears, and smiled distantly, lost in the memory once again.

Elizabeth was still watching her. Embarrassed, Squirrel dropped her hand. "Can I help you, Miss Swann?"

The young woman smiled somewhat, opened her mouth to speak, then was lost in a frown. "I…" She sighed, lost in her own memories. "I was just… I can't help but wonder if Will is alright."

_That_ was a cold dash of water. Though fire still coursed through Squirrel's veins, it was dulled back down to the embers which had burned since the days of Tortuga. The embers still burned, but now she could think on other things without distraction.

"Here," Squirrel straightened, coming away from the wall on which she was leaning. She indicated the steps, "Sit down." The two women sat down together, eye to eye. "When I met him," Squirrel said slowly, determined to be as honest with Elizabeth as she could, "He - Will - was determined beyond anything I'd ever seen before. Determined to get that compass. Determined to bring it back. Determined to save you."

Elizabeth leant forward, drinking up every word. Her eyes were liquid.

"He'd crossed the ocean looking for us," Squirrel said, knowing how much a woman loves to hear about her beloved. How a woman's love can live on stories alone. "He found us on a cannibal island, and was captured along with the rest of us." Elizabeth's hand flew to a mouth opening in a horrified 'o', wanting to ask but daring not to interrupt. Slowly, Squirrel told Elizabeth everything that had transpired; at least, everything that she could without lying or hiding the truth. She told of the cages made from human bones, how it had been Will's idea to swing them in order to reach the cliff face. How Tia had recognised Will had a 'touch of destiny' about him. How Will had been willing to cross - alone - to the _Flying_ _Dutchman_ in order to find the key.

"But we were deceived," Squirrel said, saddened. "That wreck wasn't the _Dutchman_. And Will was captured, and Davy Jones captured him."

Elizabeth looked pained, but bravely kept her chin up. "And Will… is he…?"

Squirrel sighed. "Miss Swann…"

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth," Squirrel amended, smiling in a way she hoped would comfort the young woman, "I doubt - I sincerely doubt - that Will's come to any harm." Squirrel closed her eyes for a moment. "He's dedicated to finding and saving you. He won't stay caged for long. If there's some way for Will to get back to you, he will." Squirrel looked at Elizabeth, and smiled. "He loves you. He'd do anything for you. Anything."

"He's my hero," Elizabeth said, smiling faintly, her eyes strangely distant.

Squirrel nodded. "A knight in shining armour, in an age when such men are few and far between."

Elizabeth didn't react - she merely stared off into the distance with burdened and troubled eyes. Squirrel did the same, wondering where the comparison had come from. She'd adopted Elizabeth's accent and manner of speaking in order to relate better to her. Perhaps this was the reason she felt a sudden pain in her gut at the thought of Will in danger. Perhaps this was why she found herself thinking this way.

But then… Will's honour and devotion had struck a chord in Squirrel. She felt her eyes turn somewhat green when she looked at the young woman sitting beside her - Elizabeth was so lucky to have a man who loved her more than life itself. But… Was she jealous? Foolish. Foolish! Yet, compared to the men Squirrel knew, Will was beyond comparison. Like a knight from a tale of romance. He was a man like nothing she'd ever known.

_But Will loves Elizabeth_, she reminded herself. _And Elizabeth loves Will. I'm not going to act like a jealous trollop and try to 'steal her man'. Elizabeth and Will deserve their happiness together. Besides, I have one of your own, remember?_ Squirrel smiled, blushing again at the memory of the kiss that Jack had given her. _That's the reason I'm thinking like this. I'm confusing Jack and Will. But it's not like they're anything similar… it's just because we girls each have our own love. Our own true love. I'm confusing the man I love with the man she loves. That's all._

Finally, Elizabeth rose out of her musings and sighed, giving Squirrel a small smile. "Thankyou," she said in hushed and distant tones, "Thankyou for telling me."

Squirrel smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I can't give you any more."

Elizabeth's only reply was a slight nod before she returned her stare out off into the distance, and slid somewhat lower across the steps where she was draped. Squirrel rose to her feet and moved to the prow, to watch the approaching horizon. Both women were lost in memories and thoughts. If thoughts were the weather, Squirrel's were today's sunny and clear skies, while Elizabeth's were the rough and rainy storm from last night.

But neither woman knew the contents of the other's thoughts. They were too lost in their own.


	13. Trump Card

**Disclaimer**: You look good, Jack.

**A/N**: Short and slightly filler-chapter-ish. I apologise. My muse is off sipping Pina Coladas with her boyfriend, the bitch. However, she did give me a lot of Kraken battle sequences before she nicked off. A shame there's another chapter or so before I can use any of it. Again, apologies. But! Thar be foreshadowing! See if you can spot them!

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The sun was warm and comforting, and melted across Squirrel's face and arms. The wind played games with her hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder and lifting it in jest. Squirrel lifted her face to the sun, smiling at and luxuriating in its warmth. The skies were clear, the water was crystal, and every trace of last night's darkness was all forgotten.

It was a beautiful day.

Squirrel sighed with happiness as she and her thoughts drifted. The sound of wind pulling at the black sails, the straining rigging, the clanking of pulleys all seemed to come together in a beautiful song, a song her soul was singing. Squirrel did a short spin, her feet light across the deck in a pirate's jig, then faced the sea again, breathless with joy.

She'd been silently in love for so long. Now she felt like shouting out loud, letting everyone know that she loved Jack Sparrow. Yet she settled for a smile that graced the horizon alone. She'd be silent for a little longer. But only a little longer. Once Jack was free from Davy Jones, there would be time enough for her dreams to come true.

Squirrel found herself reaching for her cards, the paper comfortingly fluttering through her hands as she shuffled them. As the wind gently pulled at her hair and the cards slipped through her fingers, Squirrel watched the horizon line, where the two shades of blue met and mingled.

Ahead lay the Isla Cruces. The place where Davy Jones' heart was hidden. Somewhere between the sky, the sea and the land, Davy Jones had hidden away his heart. Somewhere on that island ahead lay the key to Jack's freedom.

And there was only one way to find it.

The day suddenly seemed a little less bright. Yes, Elizabeth had the compass. Jack would be following her to find the heart. It would be thanks to Elizabeth that the chest of Davy Jones would be found. But… maybe, there could be some other way of finding the chest... without the compass. Maybe?

Squirrel looked at the cards in her hands, wondering. Could she maybe - maybe - look to the cards for an answer? Obviously, they were nothing more than pieces of paper, but maybe… She did have this strange gift for reading people, outcomes of games… why not outcomes of a treasure hunt? Tia Dalma had said that she and Squirrel were nearly the same.

The thought of the woman in the swamp brought Squirrel back to earth. Her lips twisted in disdain as the cards twisted and danced between her fingers. _Absurd. Absolutely absurd_. A card flipped free, fluttering in the breeze before falling-face down on the deck. Squirrel sighed. _See what happens when you're distracted? You lose focus, you drop things_. She knelt down, stilling the other 51 cards in her burned hand, and picked up the dropped card.

It was the Ace of Diamonds.

Squirrel stood up slowly, examining the card, curious and thoughtful. The Ace of Diamonds. That could mean a treasure, of sorts… perhaps the treasure chest they sought? The chest of Davy Jones? Maybe it was the sign of the crossroads… Isla Cruces was the 'island of crossings'. Maybe it meant the place where four paths crossed. Or… Something whole, formed by four separate things, or two pairs. The cardinal points: north, south, east and west. The four parts of a day, night, morning, afternoon and evening. A reef knot; something which binds everyone together. The sound of a heartbeat: _thump-thump, thump-thump_.

_This is ridiculous_.

Squirrel flushed, feeling foolish at herself. What was she thinking? Hadn't she just told herself that this was absurd superstition? Yet here she was, looking for meaning in a random card. Foolishness. Tia's insinuation that there was something magical about 'reading people' - let alone predicting the future - was total nonsense. There was nothing mystical or magic about it. It was all tricks. Tricks which relied on interpretation.

Tia's words in the hut seemed like a poignant enough example. _You bear deh scars, chil'_… Tia never said anything about burns - what she had said was 'you burn for him'. She had obviously seen Squirrel looking at Jack; a woman is always able to recognise the signs of heartache. It had been Squirrel who had clapped a hand to her burnt arm, it had been Squirrel who had taken Tia's words to be something they weren't. It had been Squirrel who had interpreted Tia's words to mean something else than what they were.

Cartomancy was no more an occult art than reading people was. All it required was a quick mind and a sharp pair of eyes. Whatever you saw, whatever card you drew, whatever shape the crab claws made when they fell… the meaning did not come from objects or the people reading the signs. It came from how such signs were interpreted. All the reader had to do was throw in a few vague phrases and an air of knowledge, and the listener left with a sense of awe at the reader's mystical powers. Nonsense and trash.

It was all whatever you wanted it to be. There was nothing mystical about it.

Squirrel shuffled the cards restlessly, angry at where her thoughts had led. _Cards are nothing more than thick paper_, she told herself. _Paper cannot help people predict the future any more than the stars can. It's all foolish superstition_. She closed up the deck, sliding it back into the pouch at her belt. She wasn't going to let a handful of paper pieces show her her 'destiny'. If she wanted to find the heart of Davy Jones, she'd follow that compass like everyone else.

_Ah, but where did the compass come from? And how does it work?_

Squirrel pushed the thought from her mind, and focused instead on the horizon. She was determined not to let her thoughts linger any longer on these foolish superstitions. She had more important things to think on.

Like Jack…

A fresh blush of colour swept across her face, and a smile parted her lips. Her fingers brushed at her cheek, where he'd kissed her, and she felt slightly dizzy once again. All those years, she'd watched him from up in the rafters and the rooftops, wishing and hoping, silently in love. And now… he'd kissed her. Squirrel closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun, laughter bubbling up inside her. She was in love like no other time before. Love, love, love….

_But what does it mean? _

Squirrel frowned, wondering where this sudden memory had come from. That was her own voice, but… to whom was she speaking? Even as she thought this, the rest of the memory rose into her mind. A beautiful woman dressed in white and blue.

_It means love_. The face of Rose Grey looked smilingly down at the young Squirrel, where she was nestled in her mother's lap. _It's all about love_, the beautiful woman said gently.

_I don't understand it_, Squirrel looked at the book held between them, feeling disheartened.

Rose Grey smiled at her daughter reassuringly. _Here_, she said, _let me read it to you like this_. _Maybe it will make more sense_. She shifted the heavy book between them, and placed an elegant finger under the words as she read. Squirrel's eyes trailed the words, but it was her mother's voice she followed more closely.

_Love is patient, love is kind; never jealous, boastful, proud, or rude; love isn't selfish or quick-tempered; it keeps no record of wrongs and loves the truth; it is always supportive, loyal, hopeful and trusting. Love will never fail_. Rose Grey looked down at her daughter, smiling fondly as she stroked the side of her daughter's face. _I love you, my little squirrel. I love you_.

"I love you too, mama," Squirrel echoed her memory as it faded away.

Squirrel smiled once more; a sad, distant smile this time. She stood in silence for a moment, letting it sink in. Another memory of her mother, another memory dredged from the darkness of amnesia. There were no tears in Squirrel's eyes, just hope and a smile. She would not cry for the loss of her mother - after all, Squirrel had not lost her, but regained a piece of what she once knew. She lifted her face to the sun once more.

"Thankyou," she whispered, then looked out over the sea. _Love is patient, love is kind_… Squirrel sighed with a smile as she remembered the verse once more. _I love Jack Sparrow. I'll be patient, I'll be kind. I won't be jealous, boastful, proud or rude. I'll be selfless and calm, I won't keep a record of his faults, and I'll stay honest. I'll support him, be loyal to him, hope for him and trust him. I love Jack Sparrow._

The smiled, bolstered by the memory she'd received. She looked ahead, to where Isla Cruces came ever closer. They'd anchor soon, and go ashore. They'd find the heart, and then Jack would be free. And when he was free, Squirrel would tell him she loved him, and then they'd be happy together. Squirrel smiled, certain of the course ahead. She turned to go, her heart singing.

But the determination crumbled, and the song died, when her sharp eyes caught sight of the object of her affection.

The warmth of the sun suddenly seemed like ice on her skin, ice which made the blood in her veins slow. She heard the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, each beat painfully twisting her, crushing her, killing her.

Elizabeth and Jack, together; she had her head tilted back, and Jack was brushing aside her hair. They stood so close. So close. Their lips were closer, so close they could almost…

Squirrel turned her head, feeling sick, feeling betrayed. Betrayed by a kiss.

She reached for the hood of her cloak, to pull it down over her head and hide away in darkness. But she wasn't wearing her cloak anymore. Her face went as blank as a mask as she crossed the deck, her eyes deliberately avoiding the tableau she didn't want to ever see again, the image of which was burned - seared - into her memory. Pintel and Ragetti were talking amongst themselves as they emerged from below. They smiled when they saw her, and offered a smile and a salute each.

"Get a boat ready," Squirrel told them, her voice devoid of anything that might betray her. "We're going ashore."

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The longboat bobbed in the waves as Pintel and Ragetti settled into position with an oar each. Squirrel looked up at the _Pearl_, her eyes shaded against the harsh glare of the sun with one hand. The three of them were ready to go. All they needed were the captain's orders.

Squirrel swallowed the bitter taste that came into her mouth at the mere thought of Jack. And, when summoned as if by her thoughts, Jack appeared at the railing, Squirrel turned her face away, looking instead at her hands. The rope was rough in her palms, and was the only thing mooring this boat to the _Pearl_. She could let go, let the boat drift… but no, not yet.

Jack clambered down the ladder awkwardly, one arm wrapped around his precious jar of dirt. He was clutching that jar of dirt so tightly, as though if he dropped it his life would be forfeit. And, in a way, it was true. Squirrel turned away, and stared at the back of Ragetti's head rather than look up at Jack. The boat rocked as the captain set aboard, then rocked some more as he moved to the prow and sat next to Squirrel.

Flushing and determined not to even spare so much as a glance in his direction, Squirrel continued to stare away. Jack didn't even notice - he faced in the opposite direction, out to sea. He hugged his jar of dirt tighter to his chest, like a frightened child seeking comfort. Squirrel silently felt both relieved and pained.

_He can't even look at me_.

The boat bobbed once more as Elizabeth and Norrington came aboard. Squirrel frowned slightly as Norrington joined them, until she saw him set down two shovels under his and Elizabeth's feet. _Ah. So you're the manual labourer then_.

She looked up - over Jack's head - to where the men on deck held the lines. She released the length of rope she held, and called "Cast off," a little more brusquely than she'd intended. The line was freed, and the little boat moved away from the bulk of the ship. Pintel and Ragetti picked up their oars, and started dipping them into the ocean. Current and the motion of the oars took them away from the shade of the ship. They were on their way.

Isla Cruces - and the heart of Davy Jones - was before them. Or, in the case of Squirrel, who watched the _Pearl_ shrink away, behind her.

As the longboat moved across the ocean, under the burning light of the noonday sun, there was a heavy silence from everyone aboard. The only noise came from the irregular chopping noise of the oars.

"You're rowin' too fast," Pintel grumbled.

"You ain't rowin' fast enough!" Ragetti shot back.

"We don't want the Kraken to catch us. I'm savin' me strength for when it comes. An' I don't think it's 'krack-en', anyways," Pintel muttered, spoiling for a fight, "I always heard it said 'kray-ken'."

"Wot, wiv a long 'a'?"

"Aye."

"Na-na-na-na-na no. 'Krock-en's how it's pronounced in its original Scandinavian, and 'krack-en's closer to that."

"Well, we ain't 'original Scandinavians', are we?" Pintel said disparagingly. "Kray-ken!"

"It's a mythological creature," Ragetti said, sounding insulted, "I can calls it what I wants."

Squirrel rested her head in her hand and gave a weary sigh. She looked up, and caught the eye of Norrington and Elizabeth, who both gave her equally nonplussed looks. Squirrel gave a miniscule shrug in return. Elizabeth made a small smile, meant to reassure.

Squirrel looked away, the bitter taste in her mouth returning with a vengeance.

"The sooner we get to the island," she told the backs of Pintel and Ragetti's heads, "The less we have to worry about it." Pintel harrumphed, and Ragetti spared a brief look over his shoulder, but the argument was ended. They rowed on in silence.

Squirrel's stomach protested quietly, and with a frown, Squirrel realised she was hungry. She pulled open the small linen bag at her belt and pulled out a handful of nuts. One by one, she shelled the nuts - almonds, peanuts, pistachios, cashews, hazelnuts, and more - and tossed the empty shells over the side. It wasn't Gibbs' thick meat stew, but it was something in her stomach. _Still_, she thought bitterly, _it would have been nice to have something a little more substantial_. She crunched away at her rations, quelling her stomach's complaints, and stared out to sea.

Beside her, Jack shifted in his seat, leaning somewhat against her. Squirrel moved slightly - almost imperceptibly - away from him.

_You're a liar, Jack Sparrow_, an inner voice snarled as Squirrel spared the captain a brief glance. _You don't just lie with your words, but with everything you are_. Something in Squirrel twisted painfully, and tears very nearly sprang to her eyes again. _You don't really love me. I almost believed that you did, when you kissed me. But that kiss was a lie. If I hadn't turned away_…

_I might have believed that you loved me_.

"_Beautiful scenery… I happen to have no dress in my cabin… More than just a pretty face_…" What were these but pretty words used to catch a woman's heart? He meant nothing by them. Nothing but a means to his end. And his end was the same of the men who frequented Tortuga's taverns. Jack was a skirt-chaser, and it didn't matter to him whose skirt it was he chased. It all depended on who was convenient at the time. Convienience was what he wanted, not the love that Squirrel was hoping for.

A tear spilled out of Squirrel's eye, and she wiped it away quickly, rubbing at her eye as though it were the fault of the sea spray, or the sun's glare, and not the man sitting next to her.

She'd done so much for Jack Sparrow. She'd left her home - such as it was - and taken to the seas, forsaking all she knew and all she held dear. She'd broken her promises, she'd gone against her conscience, she'd sinned time and time again. And for what? Love for a man who didn't love her back? Foolishness. Yet, who can tell the heart what it feels? Even if it leads to pain - even pain too great to bear - it's hard not to follow the path that the heart dictates.

_I love him, but he keeps breaking my heart_. _I love him, but_…

She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her heart beating. It kept time with that slow sad song she'd heard in a dream. The song and the sound of her heart seemed perfectly matched, and words like poetry came singing to her. _Waves shall rise, and waves shall fall… Over land and sea I'll call_…

_I love Jack Sparrow_, she found herself thinking sadly with the lullaby. _But he doesn't love me_.

The sound of waves on the shore brought her back out of her thoughts. "We're here," Elizabeth said, her voice a bare whisper. Isla Cruces.

Both women remained in the boat, along with Jack - the other three crewmen leapt overboard to walk the longboat ashore. Squirrel listened to the sound of the boat's keel grinding against the sand as the water shallowed. When the boat was still, she rose, and stepped over the side, splashing ankle-deep in the waves. The boat was abandoned by all - Jack left his jar of dirt and took up a shovel, while Norrington took the other; Elizabeth was waiting on the shore, the compass in her hand. Pintel and Ragetti bickered amongst themselves as they pulled the boat further ashore.

Squirrel moved away from the party, walking further inland, her feet crunching over the coral white sands. She wanted time to herself, time to think and be alone.

Shading her eyes against the sun as she walked, she looked over the lay of the land. Isla Cruces. The crossings. Now, where would a man who cannot set foot on land hide a chest containing both his greatest treasure and his greatest curse? Squirrel looked out across the expanse of sand, shunning the wooded green mountains on the mainland. It would be somewhere on shore, somewhere where the land and the ocean crossed over. It would be somewhere Davy Jones could reach it when he felt like it, but not so close that he would be able to reach it easily. After all, if one cut out one's own heart, you wouldn't think he'd want a reminder of the fact. The fact he'd cut out his heart would only be a reminder of why. And why was for love. A love so great and painful that he'd rather face an eternity of suffering…

Jack and Elizabeth pushed into Squirrel's thoughts, the image of their lips inches from each others burned into her mind. Squirrel's heart gave two pairs of pained beats before she was able to shove the memory from her mind. She had to find the heart of Davy Jones. She had to find where it was hidden. She had to.

Squirrel found her hands straying again to the pouch that contained the cards and the dice.

Behind her, Squirrel heard Jack gave brusque orders to Pintel and Ragetti. "Watch the boat, mind the tide, and don't steal my dirt." Sounds of footsteps crunching through the sand told Squirrel that they were coming up behind her. Almost imperceptibly, she picked up her pace, walking with quick small steps over the sand and through the sea.

Her fingers closed around a small square of bone in the bottom of the pouch. One of the dice. With some self-loathing and a sense that perhaps nothing will come of it, she picked it out, and looked at the first number she saw.

_Five_. The shape of the diamond accused her with glee. Foolish superstition. And yet… Squirrel looked up, and redirected her feet. She didn't have the compass to guide her steps. Only her instinct. And instinct was pointing her towards a sandbar at the far end of the beach.

Deft fingers slipped the dice back into the pouch with its brother; eyes sharp and brown never left the horizon, the path ahead; a song sad and powerful played on in her head, and words fitted themselves into the melody. _Wind and tide both take me far_… Squirrel moved onward, sure in her course. But her stomach was churning and every beat of her heart was painful, and recalled the mutiny Jack had committed.

_I love Jack Sparrow but he doesn't love me_. She forced the tears away - she needed clear vision if she was to reach the heart of Davy Jones first. And she was going to reach it first. The rules had changed. Squirrel needed the trump card for a different reason now.

She left the others behind as she strode ahead.

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**A/N**: Once again, appo-logies. This chapter was remarkably hard to write. I may go back and edit it at some later date. The words Squirrel started singing are mine - I couldn't help but start singing them in the movie theatre, and it worked well as a poem, too. You'll get the song in its entirety later, okay? More soon. Reviews will get my muse's ass back in the country. And I know you're reading it - I have like fifty readers a chapter, and only two reviews. That's cruelty, people. Cru-el-ty.


	14. Dead Man's Chest

**Disclaimer**: POTC isn't mine. Yeah, I don't feel particularly funny today. Sorry. ... arr?

**A/N**: Thankyou to everyone who reviews. You guys rock. This chapter contains a lot of thing my readers have suggested, so… thanks to everyone who contributed! Reviews will be LOVED.

In the spirit of explaining what happened in the movie, this chapter looks at why Jack was so far ahead and all by himself when they arrived at Isla Cruces. I mean, really... LIZ HAD THE COMPASS. She was s'posed to be leading the way! So. There. I'm dun rantin'. Read the chapter, and leave me a review. Thanks.

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"Is there any particular reason why you didn't want to wait for us, luv?" 

Squirrel looked over her shoulder before she could stop herself. Jack was right behind her, a shovel slung over one shoulder, his other arm swinging free. Norrington and Elizabeth were further back; doll-sized figures, a fair distance between them and Jack. Jack's footprints were the trail that Elizabeth and the former commodore were following; Jack, in turn, had been following Squirrel's.

"Is there a reason you're not waiting for Elizabeth?" Squirrel asked coolly, turning back and putting a bit more speed into the plodding pace she'd been holding.

Jack kept up easily beside her. "Oo-er," he muttered, "Something's pissed Miss Grey off." His tone was light and jokey - it turned serious when Squirrel refused to grant Jack a smile. "Alright, what did I do this time?"

"I don't know what you mean," Squirrel said, deliberately forcing the lightness of her words, just as Elizabeth had done. Squirrel half-expected Jack's reply to be in Norrington's voice, with that same smirk: _Oh, I think you do_…

"Well, what about you?" Jack asked. "What do you mean?" He tried to step in front of her, to grin that charming smile at her. She ducked around him, and then continued on her course, her eyes firmly fixed on the skyline.

"She's the one with the compass, Jack," Squirrel said, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders forward, her feet never faltering. "Why aren't you following her?"

Jack sighed. "Alright, that's enough." He stopped walking, and Squirrel - tied to him as she was - stopped too. Jack stepped in front of her, and pinned her with his eyes. Squirrel - though indignant and wounded by betrayal - had the courage to return his gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jack broke the silence.

"Is there something the matter, luv?"

Squirrel felt herself go red, but somehow knew the colour wasn't going to show. She'd felt the sun beat down on her long enough to know she was not longer as pale as she'd been before. "No," she said, smiling falsely. "Nothing's the matter." As an afterthought, she added, "But thankyou for answering my question."

Jack spun the shovel on his shoulder, looking warily at Squirrel. "Your question?"

"The one I asked you in your cabin," Squirrel continued to wear that smile.

Jack paused, his lips perking briefly in a smile. "You'll have to be a little more specific, luv."

Squirrel didn't blush - she was too angry. In the corner of her eye Squirrel still could see the faint outline of Jack's hand on her arm. But it was fading, fading under the colour from the sun - soon her skin would be sun-browned, the burns barely noticeable. "About whether I mean anything to you. About what I'm worth." Squirrel felt herself choking on the words, but still smiled, the smile staying false.

"Oh?" Jack said, raising a teasing eyebrow. "And what are you worth, then, luv?"

Squirrel banished the smile, tired of wearing a mask. "Nothing," she spat. "Absolutely nothing." She turned away from Jack and stared out stubbornly at the coast. The heart lay just ahead, she could feel it.

She could swear she could hear it pulsing in her ears.

"That's not true, and you know it." Jack put out a hand to stop her, but she moved too quick for him to catch a hold of her. "Come on, luv. What's prompted this?"

A bitter laugh burst out of Squirrel; she tossed her head rather than look him Jack the eye. "Oh, please. As if you don't know." After a pause, Squirrel was able to look him in the eye. Hurt now, instead of angry, she whispered, "I saw you kiss her."

"Who?" Jack looked genuinely perplexed for a moment, then the expression was gone, lost behind his usual mask of charming arrogance. "Elizabeth?" He gave a short bark of laughter.

Squirrel didn't see what was so funny. "Yes. Elizabeth. Not too long after you asked me to stay with you." She controlled the tears, but she couldn't control the pained expression or the twist of her mouth. "And I'm glad I didn't, if you forget me so quickly."

"Funny," Jack spun the shovel again, grinning, "From the way you took off, I thought you weren't interested."

Squirrel pressed her lips together firmly, though she wanted more than anything to speak the truth. _I did want to stay. I did. But I knew… I couldn't_… If her arms weren't folded, she would have pulled at her hair or fiddled with her amulet out of habit.

Jack tilted his head, still grinning, still staring right at her. "This is very irrational of you, luv. Very uncharacteristically irrational of you." He blinked slowly, almost coquettishly. "Is there something you'd like to share with me?"

"No." Squirrel smiled falsely again. "I'm just glad to know I don't matter to you, is all."

Jack's smile vanished. "I didn't kiss her, luv. She didn't give me the chance."

Squirrel paused a moment, frowning. Did she believe him? She wanted to believe him. With all her heart, she wanted to believe him. But then, if Jack didn't kiss Elizabeth… was it due to Elizabeth that they had been so close? Was it Elizabeth who had wanted to kiss Jack, and he who had turned away? _How dare she_… Squirrel almost smiled in gratitude at Jack, glad to have him true to her, until the effect of his words sank in.

"But you would have taken that chance," Squirrel said bitterly, "If you could have."

Jack's smile died on his lips; he shrugged, nonchalantly. "Maybe. Maybe not. Why does it matter?"

Squirrel closed her eyes a moment, shielding herself from the man who stood before her. A moment passed. Then she looked up again. "Exactly," she said softly. "_I_ don't matter." She turned to go.

"Oh, I see it now." His words slithered over her like a python. "You're jealous, luv. Is that what this is?" He moved around her, grinning and swaying in place. Squirrel was unable to move, held in place by his gaze and his voice. "You've gone all green-eyed." Jack grinned, his teeth bright and golden in the sun. "Is this why you wanted to know what you're worth?" He waited, swaying, grinning, for an answer.

Squirrel couldn't look away, but she didn't want to speak either.

"And why," he continued, standing at her side, "Would you be jealous, hrm? Do you… fancy me, do you?" He leant down, his face near hers - nowhere near as close as before, however. "Give me an honest answer, luv. You're good at that." He paused, grin widening persuasively. "Come on, luv. Just one honest answer. D'ye fancy me?"

Squirrel looked at Jack, trapped. So she said the only thing she could. "How much further, Elizabeth?"

The young woman was right beside her. "I'm not sure," she frowned over the compass. "We just keep on this heading and we'll reach it eventually." She looked up, half-smiling at Squirrel. Her eyes clicked to Jack, iron to a lodestone, before she looked hurriedly - embarrassed - down at the compass. Elizabeth then hurried on, focused on the compass she held. Norrington - keeping pace with Elizabeth, the shovel over one shoulder - looked briefly at the tableau between Jack and Squirrel: Jack grinning and self-assured, and Squirrel blank-faced but emotions churning in her eyes. Whatever Norrington thought, he kept to himself. But a smile did tweak the corners of his lips when he made eye contact with Squirrel.

Jack waited until both Elizabeth and Norrington were a few paces away before whispering to Squirrel, "Honest to a fault." Then he swaggered off, a new spring in his step, and a jaunty tune in his whistle. As he went, Squirrel was struck by the character of his walk.

_He knew all along_.

Squirrel flushed as she was left behind. Jack had known all along. Jack had known Squirrel adored him from afar. Jack had known, he had known, _he had known_. Squirrel cursed her stupidity. Of _course_ he would know. Why wouldn't he? Squirrel had thought she'd been subtle about it, but her face was an open book, readable to all. Especially to the man to whom she turned her face to more often than not. And hadn't she said it herself? "I would do anything for you." If that wasn't obvious, what was?

_I played my hand so badly_. _I've let that kohl-smeared, gold-toothed rogue get the better of me so many times_. She sighed to herself, then admitted: _But I still love him. I can't help it_.

She had to force her feet to move. She wasn't going to be left behind. She still had to get the heart of Davy Jones. She may have lost this hand, but she was still a player in this game. She picked up her pace and moved swiftly across the sand.

_I need the heart_.

Squirrel's fingers reached into the pouch at her belt, then pulled out the first card she found. It was the Ace of Diamonds… again. That was no help. But she kept it in her fingers. _It's better than nothing_. If she wanted to find the heart, she'd need a more precise instrument than superstition or instinct. She'd need the compass.

It didn't take long for Squirrel to catch up with the rest of the group. Squirrel looked at the Ace of Diamonds once more as she crossed through the sandbank, trying to divine some meaning from the card. But nothing sprang to mind. Small wonder - it was just a drawing on a piece of paper. Squirrel lowered the card, disheartened. As she looked up, though, she was struck by a sense of ironic symmetry. She stood opposite Elizabeth; Norrington stood opposite Jack. The governor's daughter opposite the daughter of a trader; the pirate king opposite the former commodore. _Four points, the cardinal points, two pairs, two sets of opposites making a whole_… Then Elizabeth moved forward, and the symmetry was lost. But still something nagged at Squirrel. _I'm missing something_. _I'm overlooking something_. _But what_? Whatever it was, it wasn't in the cards…

Elizabeth criss-crossed the sands, frowning at the compass. Back and forth she walked, searching, searching…

The heart was close. So close, so close. But where? Squirrel closed her eyes, ignoring the sound of Elizabeth pacing impatiently. She ignored the sounds of the wind and the sea, and listened instead for the pulsing sound that denoted a heartbeat.

Instead, a shadow passed through her mind, and she nearly gasped from the sudden splash of cold fear. _The Flying Dutchman!_ Squirrel's eyes flew open, and she scanned the sea with alarm. It was here, she could feel it… but where? Wherever it was, it was close. Too close. Squirrel shivered, rubbing her arms despite the heat of the day.

The compass rattled as Elizabeth shook it, drawing Squirrel's attention away from the sea. "It doesn't work!" Elizabeth threw the compass down in a petulant fit of anger. "And it certainly," she said, some manner of controlled hysteria in her voice, "Doesn't show you what you want." She sat cross-legged on the sand and stared out into the distance, brooding.

A sudden snatch of wind blew the card from Squirrel's hand. The Ace of Diamonds fluttered through the air, coming to land beside the compass in the sand. Jack stood over both the card and the compass. Squirrel made to leap forward and reclaim the card, but something stopped her. She frowned at the card, something niggling in the back of her mind. _Four points to a compass? Only four?_

"Yes, it does," Jack said, frowning at the compass. "You're sitting on it."

Elizabeth looked up, frowning. "Beg pardon?"

Jack motioned with his hands, urgent and demanding. "Move." Elizabeth scrambled to her feet; Jack whistled to Norrington, motioning for the former commodore to come and start digging. Judging from his expression, Norrington was none too pleased about having to take orders from the man he'd once tried to capture, but he started digging nonetheless.

Squirrel crossed the sands, and picked up both the compass and the card while the others were distracted. The card she slipped back into her belt pouch. But the compass she held in her burned hand and examined closely. It spun, the point wavering and circling.

_What do you want?_ The cold metal asked her.

Squirrel snapped the lid shut, her eyes burdened. _I don't know_, she thought sadly, looking up at Jack. _I don't know_. She looked at the sand Norrington was displacing, at the hole that was forming, then turned her eyes seawards, adding her sigh to the wind. With her free hand, she fingered the silver-and-iron of her amulet. She watched the sea, alert for signs of Davy Jones and his crew, but only half-heartedly. She was delving too deeply into her own thoughts.

_I need the heart of Davy Jones. If I have it, I can free Will. With Will free, he and Elizabeth can go back to Port Royal, unhindered and unharmed, and with my blessing. With the heart, I can free Jack from his bargain, and he can keep his precious ship… and his life, which he holds in such high regard. With the heart, I can…_

_I can… what?_

Distracted in where her thoughts were leading, Squirrel paused. _What do I want the heart for? I don't want for anything. … Do I?_

_My name. My past. And_, she looked towards Jack, where he sat meditating on the bank, _I want him to love me_.

_You can't have everything_, a voice told her, cold and pragmatic. _Besides, you can't use the heart of Davy Jones to change how Jack feels about you_.

Squirrel frowned. _No. But with the right leverage, anything's possible._

_You want to force Jack to love you? What kind of love is that?_

_It's not love at all._ Squirrel sighed, defeated by her own logic. _Love is patient_, she reminded herself, remembering her mother's words. She smiled sadly at the sitting form of Jack. Her bruised and battered heart was still honest and true despite its wounds. It was still patient, kind, humble, selfless, trusting, loyal, and would remain so. The bruises would fade. She would wait. She still loved him.

_And I always will. Come hell or high water._

Her eyes caught sight of Jack left hand, and her eyes widened. Even from the way Jack's hand was curled, the index finger and thumb pinching the air, it was unmistakable. The black spot was there, cupped in his palm.

The black spot? But how? Davy Jones wouldn't go back on his promise - he stood to gain ninety-nine more crewmen to crew his damned ship. Davy Jones wouldn't go back on his word…

Unless the deal was broken on Jack's end, and Davy Jones no longer stood to gain from Jack's bargain.

Squirrel frowned, alarmed. Had Davy Jones discovered they were seeking the heart? Impossible. The only way that would be was if…

_Will_.

Squirrel's heart fluttered, and her breath caught in her throat. Jack had sent Will over to get the key. Had Will somehow managed to retrieve it? Squirrel had thought Will a prisoner all this time - now she feared for him anew. If he'd been able to get the key, had he been able to keep a hold of it? Had he been able to escape? Was he even still alive? She looked out at the sea and clasped her hands in a frightened prayer. _Please, be safe, William_.

_Thunk_.

Squirrel's head and thoughts turned at the sound of the shovel hitting something more solid than sand. She hurried back, gathering with Elizabeth, Jack and Norrington around the hole. All four of them peered down into the hole that had been dug… then, each of them knelt down, feverishly sweeping aside the sand. Four sets of hands brushed at the chest, urgently, hurriedly. When it was clear, Jack and Norrington took hold of opposite ends of the chest, and heaved it up out of the hole and onto the sand. The lid opened easily, the lock rusted through from years and years of misuse. Slowly, Jack opened the lid.

The first thing Squirrel saw were the roses. Old and dried, they were bound with ribbon. The blooms might have been red once, perhaps even pink. Now they were bleached and desiccated. Squirrel reached out a hand, and brushed one of the flowers with a gentle finger, her eyes soft with pity. You really loved her, didn't you, she thought, tears swimming in her vision. The petals shattered, blowing away with the wind. Squirrel withdrew, alarmed.

Elizabeth had picked up a letter, one of many. The chest was full of them; the paper was yellowed and the ink was faded. A necklace of pearls lay atop these letters; this necklace slid under them like a sunken ship sliding under the waves as Jack rifled through chest, searching, searching. Norrington merely clung to the edge of the chest, his hands gripping tight, his eyes intense and clouded. Elizabeth looked up from the letter she'd been reading, her eyes liquid, and met Squirrel's. Gingerly, Elizabeth folded the letter up again - the wax seal useless from the heat and the time - and placed it back into the chest.

Jack's face was warily triumphant as he pulled a grey box from the depths of the wooden chest. Eyes turned and locked to the chest like compass points to the north. The designs on the box were intricate - curling waves, seaweed, and what appeared to be snakes. And on the front of the chest, a heart shape… and a keyhole.

_Is this it?_ Squirrel stared. _Is this the chest that contains the heart of Davy Jones?_

With the others, she leaned forward, and placed her ear on the box. Norrington's breath was on the back of her neck, and Jack's breath brushed her lips, but she did not redden. Squirrel's eyes locked with Jack's, and his with hers - there was such a terrible hope in his eyes, as though if what he were seeking were both his boon and his bane…

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump_.

Squirrel drew back, startled, but fascinated. "It's alive…" She whispered, scarce able to believe it.

"It's real," Elizabeth said, just as shocked.

Norrington gave a short snort of laughter, and looked at Jack incredulously. "You actually _were_ telling the truth."

Jack looked indignant. "I do that a lot," he said. His eyes turned to Squirrel, and there was a sardonic twist to his words, "Yet people are always surprised."

Squirrel pulled a face, and her mouth formed a retort she never got to utter.

"With good reason!"

The pirate, the governor's daughter, the lookout and the former commodore all turned to the speaker. Staggering out from the sea, weary but triumphant, was William Turner.

And he looked every inch of him a hero.

"Will!" Elizabeth leapt to her feet and flew across the sand, arms wide and joyous. Will embraced her, enclosed her in his arms, tenderly and with relief. The young lovers were reunited at last.

Norrington and Jack rose beside Squirrel, like two Greek columns. Squirrel rose too, smiling at Will. _He's alive. He's alright_. She sighed, relieved, though not as much as Miss Swann. _And the number is right_, Squirrel realised. _The dice - I picked a five. The dice and the shape of the diamond. There are five of us now. All five of us. The players are all in the game_. That was what she'd been missing. _All the pieces are in place… so now what?_

Elizabeth clung to Will, staring up at him in adoration. "You're alright! Thank God! I came to find you!" She stood up to him; Will held her close. Their lips met in a kiss, and they clung to each other, strong and passionate.

Squirrel ducked her head in order to give the two some privacy. _I'd like a happy ending like that someday_, she thought wistfully.

The compass in her hand clicked, and Squirrel looked down, surprised. She received a greater surprise when she saw the direction that the compass was pointing. Flushing and confused, her heart fluttering in her chest, she snapped the compass closed again, hoping that no-one had seen what she'd seen. Wondering if she herself could believe what she saw.

_The Ace of Diamonds was an apt card to draw_.

Squirrel looked sidelong at the men standing either side of her. Norrington had his head bowed, his face saddened. _You loved Elizabeth, didn't you_, Squirrel remembered, _You let her go. But you still love her_. Jack, strangely enough, had a similar expression on his face. Squirrel looked to him, trying not to let the hurt show. Jack saw her gaze, and grinned teasingly. But there was melancholy in his eyes - for something he had lost, perhaps? For the chance he didn't take?

_Or_, Squirrel wondered, feeling her own thoughts echoed, _for a similar love? A love you can call your own?_

The lovers broke away from their kiss, though Will still held Elizabeth tight in his arms, and she still held him.

"How did you get here?" Jack asked, all trace of previous emotion well-masked.

Will's lips twisted in a wry smile, but he said with all seriousness: "Sea turtles, mate. A pair of 'em, strapped to my feet."

Squirrel laughed under her breath. Jack had the good grace to keep a straight face in return. "Not so easy, is it."

Will's smile vanished, and there was something cold in his eyes. "But I do owe you thanks, Jack." He stepped forward, pulling something from his belt.

"You do?" Jack frowned, wary.

Will was visibly angry now. "After you tricked me onto that ship to square my deal with Jones…"

"What!" Elizabeth's head snapped to Jack, murder in her eyes.

"What?" Jack echoed in falsetto, trying and failing to appear innocent. Norrington snorted with laughter; Squirrel felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

"… I was reunited with my father," Will finished, taking Elizabeth into his arms again, with something curled in one hand.

"Oh," Jack smiled sheepishly, "Well, you're welcome then."

Elizabeth broke away from Will and strode across the sand towards Jack, her eyes aflame. "Everything you said to me," she said, her voice halfway between a shout and a hiss, "Every word was a lie!"

"Pretty much." Jack winced and shrugged. "Time and tide, luv."

Squirrel sighed. _Never trust a pirate_. He saw an opportunity and took it, damn the consequences. And damn whether anyone else felt guilty about it.

Will caught Squirrel's attention, and threw something at her. Squirrel caught it one handed, frowning at Will curiously. It was the pouch, the one Squirrel had given to Will the night he'd been taken by the _Dutchman_. It had been full before, and now, it was empty. Will smiled slightly, mouthing a silent 'thank you'. Squirrel smiled back, ducking her head in acknowledgement. _I knew it would come in handy_. Her smile faded when she saw the knife he held in one hand, and the key in the other. Will's eyes were fixed on the chest.

"Oi," Jack had noticed too, "What are you doin'?"

Will knelt down before the chest, like a man at prayer. The knife glinted in the sunlight. "I'm going to kill Jones." Squirrel didn't even have time to draw a breath before Jack's sword was levelled at Will's throat.

"Can't let you do that, mate," Jack said, his voice frighteningly steely. "'Cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?"

Will bowed his head, bitter and defeated. He rose to his feet, stepping back and sheathing the knife at his belt.

"Now, if you please," Jack held out his hand, his eyes cold. "The key."

Will scowled at Jack, then moved, his arms fluid and fast. Elizabeth's sword slipped from its sheath, balanced cleanly in Will's hand; Elizabeth leapt back, alarmed by the speed and the violence Will had displayed.

"I keep the promises I make, Jack!" Will spat, angered, the key clutched in his left hand. "I intend to free my father, and I hope you're here to witness it!"

_His father?_ Squirrel looked between both men, alarmed. Will's father? The one who had been thrown overboard when the curse of the Aztec gold was in place? He was alive? She stepped forward, words of mediation on her tongue and her hands out in supplication, but leapt back with a yelp as a third blade scissored the air, pointed at Will.

"I can't let you do that either," Norrington's voice was cold and calm. "So sorry," he added insincerely.

"I knew you'd warm up to me," Jack grinned, stepping towards the former commodore. The swords cut the air again - Will's pointed at Norrington, Norrington's pointed at Jack. Jack lifted his blade to Will again - as an afterthought - looking confused.

"Lord Beckett desires the content of that chest," Norrington snarled. "I deliver it, I get my life back."

"Ah," Jack smiled, his eyes knowing, "The dark side of ambition."

Norrington tilted his head with a smirk, a man with the upper hand. "Oh, I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption."

She'd always looked for the good in everyone, but this declaration was to Squirrel a betrayal far too harsh. An officer of the King's Navy is meant to be above reproach, above corruption. Yet here was Norrington, demanding the Devil's due. "You coward!" Squirrel stared in horrified disgust. Her statement prompting a surprised - and somewhat saddened - glance from Norrington. Squirrel ignored him, stepping instead towards the raised swords. "It d-doesn't need to be this way!" She said, trying to calm everyone. "I'm s-sure we can c-come to some kind of agreement!"

"I don't doubt it," Jack grinned, looking between Will and Norrington. Suddenly, he swung his sword; Norrington parried; Will pushed Squirrel out of harm's way as the two swords came down towards her, and used his own sword as a shield, blocking and them pushing Norrington and Jack back, back and away. Squirrel scrambled in the sand, trying to get back to her feet. The three men moved so fast, so smoothly; their swords seemed like extensions of themselves. Steel clashed and rang, the three men circling each other like hawks.

"Stop it!" Elizabeth shouted. She, like Squirrel, was ignored.

The melee continued. There were no allies in this fight, no friends, nothing but swords and anger. Whatever the case, whoever was fighting, it was two against one - and the odds changed all the time. Squirrel felt dizzy just watching them, trying to decide who she should be helping… Wondering if she even could. Or should.

Will tripped and fell, losing his balance in the sand. Jack - claiming the key - ran off over the beach, Norrington in hot pursuit.

"Will!" Elizabeth ran and knelt at Will's side, concerned and distressed.

Will barely looked at her. "Guard the chest!" He barked, then leapt to his feet and chased after the pirate and the commodore.

Elizabeth stared after him, incredulous and then angry. "No!" She shouted, and leapt up, running at Will's heels.

Squirrel looked back over her shoulder, to where the chest of Davy Jones crouched in wait. It would be so easy. So easy. It was unguarded, unprotected…

She could take it. Take it and use it as the bargaining chip. She could help all those who needed help, and then some. _But is the heart really all that important to me?_ She wondered, hearing the shouts and snarls of the swordfight down the beach. The compass she clutched tight in her hand was oddly cold despite the heat of the sun. _Is the heart of Davy Jones what I really want?_ In an instant, she made up her mind, and flew across the sand towards her goal.

Squirrel left Davy Jones' heart behind, and heeded her own heart's call instead.


	15. Wheel Of Fortune

**Disclaimer**: I al-wee's knew dat deh wind gon' blaw an idea to me sum-dee. Do', it not be our'n…

**A/N**: You like me! You really like me! … well, you like the story, anyway. Over a hundred readers! You guys rock! Thankyou so much!

* * *

"THIS IS NOT FUNNY!" Elizabeth raged, screaming at the figures down the beach. "This is no way for grown up men to…" She growled in her throat. "Fine!" She said with affected calmness. "Let's all just pull out our swords and start banging away at each other. That will SOLVE EVERYTHING!" She started picking up rocks and shells and throwing them ineffectually at the three fighting men. "I'VE HAD IT! I've had it with rum-soaked, wobbly-legged PIRATES!" 

Squirrel came up alongside Elizabeth - tying the compass to her belt as she walked - and stared down the beach, sharing the young woman's mood. Stupid boys… They could have tried talking - they could have listened to her - but, no… Men always have to sort everything out the old-fashioned way.

"THIS IS MADNESS!" Elizabeth shouted.

"Ah, leave them," Squirrel folded her arms. "Sooner or later they'll get sick of it." She sighed, exasperated.

Elizabeth threw one last rock, then turned to glare at Squirrel. "You. You knew about Will."

Squirrel blinked, perplexed. "What?"

"You knew that Will was taken by the _Dutchman_," Elizabeth scowled, angry more than hurt. "You knew, and you lied to me."

Squirrel blinked, wounded. "I n-never lied to you!"

Elizabeth snorted. "That may be so, but you never told me the truth. The real truth. All you gave me," she paused to throw another rock, "Were threadbare facts and half-cooked stories."

Squirrel kicked at the sand, feeling low. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wanted to tell you, but…"

"But what?"

Squirrel half-shrugged, almost too guilty to look Elizabeth in the eye. "I couldn't."

"Why not?" Elizabeth demanded, frowning at Squirrel. "Would it be so hard?"

Squirrel sighed. "It is hard. Especially when Jack Sparrow's involved."

Elizabeth knelt down, picked up another rock, and threw it, this time with less enthusiasm. "Of course," she said, "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Squirrel repeated. "I just…"

"You're not to blame." Elizabeth said softly, putting a hand on Squirrel's shoulder.

"I feel like I should be," Squirrel muttered. Elizabeth managed a comforting smile.

The sound of swords clashing brought both women's attention back to the fight. The three men showed no signs of abating. Elizabeth screamed down the beach again.

"ENOUGH!" Once again, she was ignored.

"You'll hurt your voice if you keep shouting like that," Squirrel noted.

Elizabeth breathed deep several times, trying to master her temper, then smiled and waved her hand around her head. "Oh!" She cried, "Ohh! The heat!" She swooned like a woman in a melodrama, and crashed into the sand, her hat tumbling off her golden hair. Squirrel looked down at Elizabeth, then up the beach. The men circled each other, the sun glinting off their flying blades. It was a spectacular faint, and it was completely wasted.

"Does that usually work?" Squirrel asked, as Elizabeth sat up.

Elizabeth rammed her hat back on her head then folded her arms petulantly. "You'd be surprised," she muttered.

"Hrm," Squirrel couldn't help but smile wryly, "Maybe I'll have to try…"

Movement behind her cut her short. Pintel and Ragetti were making their way down the beach behind them, a burden carried between them. Squirrel recognised the silver-grey of the chest, and darted after them; Elizabeth too, had seen them, and was up on her feet and running with Squirrel.

Elizabeth looked murderous, even while running. "Those slimy, no-good…"

"Save. Breath," Squirrel advised, speaking in gasps as she sprinted, "Run."

The two women ran after the two pirates, the sound of the three-way swordfight forgotten behind them. Pintel and Ragetti were making headway, taking a path that would lead them through the jungle and back to the boat. Squirrel peeled away from Elizabeth. She remembered where the boat waited - the two thieving pirates weren't exactly running as the crow flies. They could be cut off, as long as one knew where to go. Mentally thanking Ana for the lessons in map reading, Squirrel ran. Elizabeth caught up with her.

"Where are you…" She hissed.

"Shortcut," Squirrel panted, a smile on her lips.

* * *

The shade beneath the trees was cool, a relief from the painful heat of the noonday sun, but the dried palm fronds scattered over the ground crackled treacherously at every step. Squirrel moved carefully, placing her feet on solid ground, her ear cocked for the sound of the pirates. She could hear them coming. Squirrel allowed herself a small smile, even though she was still fighting for her breath back. They certainly wouldn't expect this ambush. 

Elizabeth followed behind Squirrel, moving just as carefully. "I'm going to kill them," she whispered. "As soon as I see them…"

"Shh!" Squirrel motioned. She and Elizabeth moved quickly, ducking around the dried foliage, moving silently. They did not have to wait long.

Pintel and Ragetti burst into view, still running. Elizabeth pushed forward, stepping into their path with a look that could kill; Squirrel was at her side, her hands on her hips and a look on her face she hoped looked unsympathetic. Pintel and Ragetti exchanged looks, concerned. Elizabeth reached for her belt, the expression on her face turning anxious, then sheepishly apologetic. She didn't have her sword. Squirrel looked at the woman with some measure of alarm - Elizabeth returned the glance. _Of course. Will took your sword, didn't he_. Fumbling with her belt, Squirrel pulled out the only melee weapon she had - her dagger. She brandished it half-heartedly, blushing and feeling a fool.

Elizabeth looked at Squirrel, clearly thinking _You must be joking_. Squirrel half-shrugged.

Pintel grinned, clearly unimpressed by the faux bravado. Ragetti grinned as well, his wooden eye roving in its socket. Dropping the chest, the pair of them drew their swords.

"'Allo poppet," Pintel grinned, stepping forward to Elizabeth. Ragetti giggled, echoing his friend, and moved towards Squirrel.

"Eighteen places," Squirrel hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep herself from being afraid.

Ragetti didn't pause, and small wonder. In comparison to a sword, a dagger was little more than a glorified butter knife. Despite its size, sharpness, and the ease with which it could be used, it had no reach. Squirrel would be cut to ribbons before she'd even be able to make a single mark on her opponent. Swallowing, she lowered the dagger - but she kept it in her hand nonetheless. Ragetti sensed the change in her, and his grin turned into something far more sinister.

Elizabeth and Squirrel backed up, slowly, out-manoeuvred and - in comparison - unarmed. Just then, a giant wheel rolled by.

Squirrel paused, doubting her own eyes and sanity. Will and Norrington 'stood' atop the spinning wheel, swords clashing, keeping their balance by walking continuously. On the forest floor, Jack ran after them, his arms flailing. He caught up with the rolling wheel, and climbed inside, running in the interior of the wheel. The wheel trundled on through the jungle, taking with it the three men, their clattering swords, and what seemed like a decent chunk of normality.

Elizabeth and Squirrel exchanged incredulous and somewhat confused glances before turning back to the issue at hand - namely, the two pirates who wanted them dead.

_Funny_, Squirrel thought darkly, never taking her eyes off the sword-wielding pirate who advanced upon her, _How greed changes people for the worst. Even those with noble intentions_… She thought of Will briefly, fighting with Jack and Norrington, then set her jaw. _Greed brings out the worst in all men_, she thought, staring Ragetti down.

Instinct and sudden fear gripped her. A lesson learned the hard way in Tortuga surfaced in her mind - she'd not learned to dodge flying bottles from her uncle's hand for nothing. Squirrel ducked her head, yelping in surprise as an axe shot over her head and buried itself into a tree trunk. The wind from the axe's passing seared Squirrel's scalp.

All four of the combatants turned, alarmed at this sudden reversal of fortunes. Davy Jones' crew roared and bellowed, leaping through the foliage with bloodthirsty glee. Elizabeth and Squirrel continued to back up, but this time in the opposite direction - Pintel and Ragetti's swords were nothing compared to the fear these half-men inspired.

Pintel and Ragetti seemed to agree - they handed their swords to Elizabeth and ran, picking up the chest as they went. The two women ran after them.

"Turn left!" Squirrel barked, seeing a tree coming between Pintel and Ragetti. Either they didn't hear her, or they didn't know which 'left' she meant. They ran either side of the tree, and the tree trunk caught the chest, pulling it out of their hands. Elizabeth stopped beside Squirrel, turning, the two swords raised. Though there was fear in her eyes, she parried and fought. Squirrel had time to be impressed.

She kept running.

She passed Pintel and Ragetti, who were already running back to help. She didn't stop until she was far enough away, hidden by the trees. Then she turned around, sheathing her dagger. They may have thought her a coward for running, but she wasn't running anymore. Squirrel scrambled up onto a fallen tree, balancing herself carefully, and peered through the trees at the fight. She pulled her shanghai from her belt, and loosened the neck of a bag at her belt: a bag filled with smooth stones.

She plucked a stone from the bag and set it into the shanghai, and then squinted, aiming, waiting for that opportune moment. One of the cursed pirates stood back, laughing at Elizabeth's attempt to fight them off. Squirrel grinned, and the stone zinged free. _Snift_. The pirate staggered back, clutching at his eye and screaming. Squirrel grinned again, another stone primed and readied. _Snift_. Another pirate was felled, and Pintel ran him through before tossing the sword back to Elizabeth. Squirrel fired again, again, again. _Snift, snift, snift_.

"Nice shootin', girl."

Squirrel re-aimed quickly, hitting the shark-man square in the face, then leapt off the log and ran. The shark-man bellowed in pain, then crashed through the brush after her.

"Elizabeth!" Squirrel bawled. "Help!"

Elizabeth turned, saw Squirrel running towards her with the shark-creature at her heels. With a roar, Elizabeth charged forward, brandishing the sword, distracting the shark-man from his intended target. Squirrel ducked and weaved through the combatants - perhaps running into the heart of battle hadn't been a good idea. She bobbed, ducking aside, out of the fight, and hid herself behind a tree, trying to catch her breath.

The fight was moving on without her, pushing further and further into the trees.

_Perfect. I can stay here, with the chest, and still be a part of the fight_. Squirrel grinned, and patted the bag of stones at her side. Not many left. Better make them all count.

"Hee hee hee!"

Squirrel looked up, and saw one of Davy's crew, a shell-headed man, creeping through the underbrush. He'd been forgotten in the fight - or had purposely left himself behind. Whatever the case, he moved with sure purpose. He picked up the chest, grinning, then turned tail and fled. "_Ni men shi bai chyr_," he laughed as he ran.

Squirrel pulled out her dagger and ran after him, swift and silent.

The pirate ran quickly and agilely. Squirrel had a hard time keeping pace, but she controlled her breathing and her temper, her shanghai in one hand and her dagger in the other. There was no way she was going to let Davy Jones take back the chest. With a silent snarl, she put on a burst of speed, closing the gap between herself and the shell-headed pirate.

Something flew through the air; instinct once again caused Squirrel to pull up short. The coconut collided with the shell-pirate's head, and the pirate crumpled. The chest bounced one way, the pirate's body catapulted the other… and his head rolled to a stop under one of the many trees.

"Ai-yah!" The pirate's head called, exasperated, as though this had happened before. Squirrel felt a little sickened - he was still alive? She heard someone coming up behind her, and crouched in readiness, thinking it was one of the pirate's friends come to aid him. Squirrel's relief was immense when she saw it was only Jack. She smiled, glad to see him, glad he was unharmed. "Nice shot, captain," she panted, catching her breath. The shanghai and the dagger slipped back into their respective places at her belt.

Jack winked at her, but his eyes were serious. They held on the chest and would not let go.

"Anido! Anido!" The pirate's head called. "Follow the sound of my voice!"

Behind Jack, the pirate's headless body was staggering around. Jack paid no heed - he knelt down at the chest, the key in hand. Squirrel crossed to Jack, and knelt by his side. _Looks like Jack won the fight after all_, she thought, taking note of the key he held.

"To the left! No, other left!"

_Either that_, a pragmatic voice said to her, _or he used his pirate tricks again. Either way, you're not complaining, are you_.

There was a thud, and then a heavier thud. "No," the pirate's head called, "That's a tree."

_Nope_.

"Oh, shut it!" Jack called, and the shell-headed pirate muttered into silence. Jack took the key and inserted it into the chest's lock. Squirrel found herself drawing closer to Jack, captivated by hope, fear and dread in equal measures.

The key turned, and the chest clicked and hissed. Metal tongues sprang out of the lid like dull claws. Jack took hold of the lid in both hands, and gingerly opened the chest, his eyes full of that same terrible hope and fear…

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump_.

Squirrel stared, aghast. "It's a real heart," she whispered, horrified.

It was a human heart, but twisted and unnatural. It was covered in barnacles and sea slime, but still the shape was unmistakable. Squirrel felt slightly disgusted. She'd known it was a heart, but not… a heart like _this_.

This was impossible! How was Davy Jones even alive? How was he walking about, breathing air, making demands, running a ship… how was he even alive? This was not possible. He shouldn't - should not - be alive. Davy Jones shouldn't even be alive. It made no logical sense…

That song - that lullaby - played delicately in Squirrel's head.

_He cut out his heart to escape the pain of love_, she remembered, suddenly saddened. _Was it worth it? Was it worth it to live a cursed un-life, where you don't feel love? Or anything? Was it worth it, Captain Davy Jones?_

Jack picked up the heart in his bare hand, and grinned at it, triumphant. Squirrel made a noise of disgust when she saw it pulsing in Jack's hand. Jack grinned sidelong at her.

"Wanna touch it?" He thrust the heart at her. Squirrel drew back, pulling a face. Jack laughed, his eyes sparkling mischievously. His laugh was cut short when the sound of fighting came through the trees. Squirrel squinted through the foliage. Her eyes widened when she saw that Elizabeth, Pintel and Ragetti were bringing the crew of Davy Jones right to them.

Jack slid the heart into his shirt and slammed the lid of the chest shut. "Time to go, luv!" He grabbed Squirrel by the arm, heaving her to her feet, and started running.

"But," Squirrel paused a moment, looking back, "The chest!"

"Don't need it!" Jack reached back and grabbed Squirrel by the hand. "Come on!" He and Squirrel ran, hand-in-hand, through the forest. Shadows of trees flickered across her vision, sounds of fighting suddenly seemed far away. Even when they crossed the barrier between trees and beach, shadow and unrelenting sunshine, it had no impact on Squirrel.

The world was turning without her. The only thing Squirrel knew for certain was that Jack was holding her hand, running beside her. Squirrel's blood sang in her ears, her heart pounding.

_I was wrong!_ She found herself thinking. _I am worth something to him! He does care!_ Shaking off the dizziness that threatened her, she forced herself to concentrate on each step and breath she took, as she and Jack sprinted across the sand. The boat lay ahead, and the heart was in Jack's possession. They were free.

Jack was free, and he was taking Squirrel with him.

The rising tide grasped at their feet as they ran across the beach. The longboat was already drifting somewhat out to sea, but not so far that they couldn't reach it. Jack released Squirrel's hand, and Squirrel found herself fighting for balance. _Dizzy_, she thought, trying to focus.

"Jar of dirt!" He rifled around the longboat, lifting his coat and scrabbling, searching for said jar. He threw his coat at Squirrel, and grinned as he located his precious treasure. He tipped the dirt out into the boat, placed the heart into the jar, replaced the tipped-out dirt, and tied shut the lid of the jar, grinning all the while. But there was fear in her eyes and urgency in his movements.

_I can read him_, Squirrel found herself more than a little concerned. _He's terrified, and I can read him_. Something grabbed her ankle, and she screamed, throwing Jack's coat back into the longboat. _Davy Jones!_ The nightmare was too close, too real in her mind, even in the heat of the sun. But it was not Davy Jones who had grabbed her, but one of his crewmen. "Jack!" She drew her dagger as the half-man rose out of the water, intending to defend herself but knowing she stood no chance.

A phantom of a Tortugan rum bottle sailed through the air once more, and Squirrel bobbed to one side just in time.

_Thunk!_

The half-man reeled back, stunned; Jack spun the oar in his hands, ready to strike again. "Get back, luv!" he called. He leapt over the boat, swinging the oar, driving the fish-man back. Squirrel dithered, the dagger in her hand demanding that she fight, but fear holding her at bay. She stepped forward, stepped back, forward again, the sea washing at her ankles.

Jack looked back, and saw her indecision. "Stay with the boat!"

Squirrel ducked back, her breath and her heart in her throat as she watched Jack fight with an oar. The fish-man had a sword, but he never seemed to get the chance to use it. Jack's fear was making him relentless.

_Stay with the boat. Guard the heart_. Squirrel bit her lip as she put the dagger away. _Stay here. Stay put_.

"Argh!"

Squirrel's head swivelled. Down the beach, coming towards them, were Elizabeth, Pintel and Ragetti - allies once more - fighting against the frightening creatures of Davy Jones' crew. Should she help them? No. She couldn't leave the boat. With some misgiving and a decent amount of guilt, she did nothing. But she watched.

Elizabeth was good with a sword. Very good. She moved gracefully, like a dancer, the blade singing through the air like a feather. Pintel and Ragetti, pirates that they were, utilised whatever they could get their hands on - namely, the chest. They used it as a club, a battering ram, a flail, a shield. They took turns fighting, each defending the other, or fought together as a team. Squirrel found herself almost cheering every time any of her friends landed a blow.

_They're in range!_

The realisation came so suddenly that Squirrel felt foolish. Of course! She wasn't useless in this fight! She checked the bag that hung from her belt. Enough stones for at ten more shots. With a grin, Squirrel readied her shanghai, and waited for the perfect shot.

_Just a bit closer_… She fired. _Snift_. A pirate staggered, felled by a blow to the leg. _Snift_. Another winced and was run through by Elizabeth's dancing blade. Another one rose his feet after a blow to the head from the dead man's chest. _Snift_. That pirate fell back down into the shallow water. Squirrel grinned, elated. She looked over her shoulder, looking for Jack, sure he'd be winning his fight.

Jack had moved further from the boat, driving the fish-man deeper into the sea with every blow of the oar. He was too far away for Squirrel to help him, but…

Elizabeth and the lads were getting ever closer. They needed help more - they were outnumbered. They needed every ounce of help if they were to survive. Jack could hold his own. Squirrel turned her attention shorewards, and aimed the shanghai again.

_Snift_. Squirrel swore mightily as the pirate she'd aimed for moved; the stone had missed its mark. She fired again, again, again - two of her shots hit, but neither did significant damage. She reached into the pouch at her belt, and was reminded of the preciousness of her ammunition. With a slow steadying breath, Squirrel prepared her shanghai. Only three shots left. Best make them count.

Four of Davy's crew were converging on Elizabeth. Squirrel squinted down the length of her weapon, reading the movements of the half-fish crewmen. Though they were cursed, they were still men - Squirrel smiled grimly as she released the leather band, glad of her gift to read people. _Snift_. One of the pirates staggered, clutching his gut, causing the men behind him to check themselves and pull back.

Squirrel fumbled for another round, knowing full well that at any moment there could be something to completely change the outcome of the fight. The wheel of fortune could turn, changing the result of…

The giant wheel came roaring down the beach at great speed, unrelenting in its path. It swept aside the pirates, crushing them into the sand and the sea, before continuing its course further down the beach. There, it stood, like some ancient sentinel… then tilted, tipping, crashing to its side, finally coming to rest. Normality held its breath a moment, then life resumed as usual: with shouts and the clashing of steel.

_I didn't expect it to be that literal_, Squirrel thought to herself. _But I'm not complaining._ She readied her shanghai once more, but the stone slipped from her fingers and fell into the water at her feet. With a cry of alarm, Squirrel stooped, feeling around in the sand. _Come on, come on! Where did it go?_ She wasn't about to lose one of her precious two shots to accident. But the more she searched, the more frenzied her fingers probed the shallows, the closer the sounds of fighting came.

Swearing in despair, Squirrel picked up a handful of sand and threw it back into the water. It was gone. She now had only one shot left. She stood, her face twisted in anger at her own stupidity. Squirrel cast her eyes about, judging the distances between fighters. Who was she going to help with her final shot? Pintel and Ragetti were fighting in tandem. Elizabeth was delayed further up the beach, but she was holding her own for the time being, seeing as she only had one combatant: the shark-man. _Sometimes deh sharks aren't oonly in deh water_, Tia's voice from somewhere in the back of Squirrel's mind. Squirrel pushed the distraction away.

Squirrel turned, once more, looking to Jack. He was still fine. He seemed to be handling the oar better than he did a sword. _Why am I not surprised? He's hopeless with a sword, though he likes to boast otherw_… Two figures further up the beach caught her attention. Squirrel's eyes widened - Will! And Norrington! Will staggered and fell into the water, and Norrington swayed on his feet like a drunken man. _They must have been inside the wheel_, Squirrel realised. The wheel had been rolling rapidly over the beach; small wonder Norrington and Will were finding it hard to regain their balance.

Squirrel turned her attention back to the fight, readying her shanghai once more. She dithered, unsure - every time she had a target something prevented her from firing - either the target moved too quickly, or someone got in the way, or Squirrel simply wasn't sure if she should let the stone fly. With an agonised sigh, Squirrel lowered her shanghai, jiggling from foot to foot, feeling helpless. The tide was rising. No longer was the water content to nip at her ankles. There wasn't time.

Squirrel looked out over the beach, her final shot clutched tight in her left hand, the shanghai in her right. When to fire? When? The cursed pirates that had been felled by the wheel were rising, rejoining the fight. Pintel and Ragetti didn't look like they could keep fighting for much longer, and Elizabeth's graceful movements were slowing. Nervous and jittery, Squirrel bit her lip, looking from one target to another, wondering which one, which one…

Something bumped the boat into the back of her legs, and it wasn't the tide. Someone was behind her. Norrington was at the edge of the longboat, holding something in his hands. The look on his face was that of relief, triumph… and greed.

Without thinking, Squirrel leapt into the boat and grabbed hold of what Norrington held, her eyes furious. Norrington drew back, alarmed by the sudden rocking of the boat and of the sudden appearance of Squirrel. But he refused to relinquish his hold on his prize. They met and held each other's gaze, a silent challenge from which neither was willing to back down from.

Squirrel took her eyes from Norrington's for a moment, to see what it was they held. She recognised the leather packet immediately - the insignia burned into the leather was unmistakable. The letters of marque.

Squirrel looked up at Norrington, eyes wide. _You'd steal like a thief to regain your title? You're more of a coward than I thought!_ Norrington narrowed his eyes and raised his sword, clearly expecting a fight. Squirrel looked down at the letters once more, then back to Norrington. There was a long pause.

She let go.

Norrington stared at Squirrel a moment, dumbstruck, the hand holding the letters awkwardly suspended in space. Squirrel crouched lower in the longboat, making herself eye-level with the former commodore.

"Take it," she said, face blank but her voice harsh. "We don't want it." She shook her head, her eyes soft and pitying. "You still won't regain your honour," she added in a whisper.

Norrington continued to stare, but there was something wretched in his expression. She'd cut him deep; she'd hurt him badly with those well-placed words. "You don't understand…"

"I understand fine," she turned and leapt out of the boat, the water splashing around her. After a pause, she looked over her shoulder. Norrington stood by the longboat, staring at her. He closed both hands around the letters, holding them close, before tucking them into his belt. He opened his mouth, seeking to explain, to say something.

"Miss Grey…"

Squirrel shook her head, wrestling with the hurt at his betrayal. "You got what you wanted!" She shouted, "Now get out of here!" She turned away, wounded by his cowardice. She had to move, had to leave, had to get away from him. But there was nowhere else to go.

So she ran to Jack, fighting the tears in her eyes.

**

* * *

A/N:** Hadras - the shell-headed pirate - says 'You idiots!' while giggling and stealing the chest. I don't live in Singapore for nothing. Hadras spoke Cantonese in the movie, and he's speaking it here. Just so you know. 'Bai chyr' is the best way I can write the pronunciation, so sorry if it doesn't quite work with how you think it should be said. Just speak from the thromborax. 

More soon. I have the soundtrack and my muse is insane once more. Next chapter - where is the thump-thump?


	16. Fear and Rum

**Disclaimer**: We are short-stocked on power… no copyrights!

**A/N**: Kudos to my Dad, who, while seeing the movie, pointed out the pure stupidity of Jack's orders. Thanks Dad! I put your reaction into the story, just for you. Sugar cookies to those who can find the final reference to the Ace of Diamonds (if you're confused about what I mean, go back a few chapters and look at Squirrel's examples). Also, references to Hamlet and Dante's Inferno - a barrel of rum for people who spot those.

* * *

It was hard to tell who was more surprised - the fish-man with the knife in his ribs; Squirrel, the one holding the knife; or Jack, under whose arm she was crouching. 

"I thought I told you to stay with the boat," he swung the oar as Squirrel withdrew - the fish-man fell into the sea and didn't rise again.

Squirrel looked up at Jack, grabbing hold of his arm. "We have to go. Now." She looked up the beach again. Norrington was tucking the letters down the front of his vest - his movements were quick and guilty, like a thief. He checked his treasure was secure, then picked up his sword and plunged into the melee, running to aid Elizabeth. Without waiting for Jack's reply, Squirrel turned and ran up the beach, back to the longboat, sheathing her dagger and readying her shanghai and final stone. The water splashed crystalline around her legs as she kicked up the sea. Jack followed behind her, close and keeping pace.

At the beach ahead, Will, Pintel, and Ragetti had reached the longboat. Pintel and Ragetti had picked up the other oar and a net, and fought Davy Jones's crew like unlikely Roman gladiators. Will, however, was standing over the longboat, the chest in his hands.

He was staring at the key in the lock, something close to comprehension in his eyes.

Jack swung the oar, and Will barely had time to look around at his attacker. With a heavy thunk, the oar connected with Will's head, rendering him unconscious and knocking him into the boat.

"Jack!" Squirrel pulled up short, shocked. Jack just shrugged.

"Will!" Elizabeth ran to Will's side.

"Leave him lie," Jack said, brandishing the oar like a club at the approaching pirates. "Unless you're planning to use him to hit something with."

Davy Jones' crewmen had them surrounded; Jack and his crew had been herded around the longboat, but there was no escape. Squirrel drew back the straps of the shanghai - one shot would not be enough. And there was no way they'd be able to get the boat out into the water in time. Not like this.

"We're not getting out of this," Elizabeth panted, sword still raised.

"Not with the chest," Norrington stated. "Into the boat." He grabbed the chest out of the longboat and held it tight under one arm.

"You're mad," Elizabeth stared.

"Don't wait for me," Norrington said stoically. His eyes met Squirrel's - she was open-mouthed with alarm and awe - before he turned and ran, fighting left-handed and leading the crewmen away.

_You fool! _Squirrel thought, terrified for him. _You bloody fool! The heart's not in there! You'll die for nothing! You fool! You… you…_

"I-I-I say we respect his final wish," Jack suggested.

"Aye!" Pintel agreed. The group all started fumbling with their weapons, trying to get seated and away.

Squirrel watched up the beach, disbelieving. _Maybe I was wrong about you, James Norrington_, she thought. _Maybe… you are still honourable. Maybe… maybe you are a hero_.

"You coming, luv?" Jack called.

Squirrel raised her shanghai to eye-level, squinted, and fired. _Snift_. The smooth white stone zipped through the air. Further up the beach, the shark-man howled, clapping a hand to his buttocks.

_That_, Squirrel thought with a mischievous grin, _Was for threatening me before_.

The shark-pirate did not stop or turn back - he continued on, chasing after Norrington. Squirrel felt her heart quicken in fear. She climbed in the boat with the others, but her eyes were on the figure in a muddy blue coat, shrinking into the distance.

"Will," Elizabeth was shaking the unconscious man gently. "Will, are you alright?" She was looking at her husband-to-be with such undisguised concern. _She really loves Will_…

Squirrel bit her lip, looking sidelong at Jack. He was clutching his jar of dirt again, a small smile playing about his lips. Nothing else mattered to him, except that he had the heart. He was getting out of this scot-free.

Squirrel looked back at the beach. "This isn't right. W-w can't just leave Norrington."

"'E chose it," Pintel huffed, pulling his oar through the water. "'E's the one who went back in order for us to get out of 'ere!"

"An' God rest 'is soul!" Ragetti added, pulling at his oar. Unsurprisingly, the two pirates' rowing was out of sync, but neither of them commented on it. They - like everyone else - just wanted to put distance between them and Davy Jones' crew.

Squirrel looked shorewards once more, as the island shrank away behind her. Something nagged at her, like before, when she was searching for the heart. She was missing something, she was forgetting something. This time, though, it had nothing to do with cards or dice. It was something far more mundane. Squirrel furrowed her brow, trying to think what she could have possibly missed…

Like a game in a tavern, she looked at each play that had unfolded, remembering back all that had transpired. She went through each step, every minute she'd set foot on that island, trying to think, trying to remember what was lost.

The love letters in the chest. Three swords crossed. There was something in that - Norrington's sword? Something about Norrington's sword? She continued: The flight through the trees. A flying axe. The chest dropped. The battle with the cursed crewmen. Jack, opening the chest - the heart of Davy Jones.

There was _definitely_ something about _that_ that was important.

Frowning, Squirrel delved deeper. Running with Jack, holding his hand. The jar of dirt…

Squirrel looked over at Jack, and her eye caught sight of the lid of the jar he held. Surely, Jack had tied it differently. Jack had tied the lid with a reef knot, and now it was a mere bootlace knot. It wasn't like that before… was it? Perhaps she was just distracted by the fish-man grabbing her ankle; surely it was just the same as before. Focusing her eyes on the knot, Squirrel thought harder, the nagging feeling getting stronger and more insistent.

Shooting stones down the beach. Water at her ankles. Dropping a stone. Norrington taking the letters of marque. Running to Jack. Running back to the longboat. Norrington going off to fight. Will getting beaten over the head…

Squirrel's mouth went dry. _You won't get back your honour_… Norrington had put the letters in his belt. Squirrel had run away, and then ran back. When she came back to the boat, Norrington was putting something in his shirt. Just as Jack had when taking it from the chest.

"Jack!" Squirrel sat up, eyes wide.

Jack looked over, lazily. "Yes, luv?"

"We have to go back!"

Jack stood up, the jar under one arm. He grinned, his gold teeth charming once more. "Go back? Luv, we just got here!"

Squirrel looked over her shoulder. They were at the _Pearl_ already. Hands were pulling the unconscious Will Turner up on deck; Pintel and Ragetti were tying up the longboat, ready to heave it to and tie it tight; Elizabeth was up on deck, watching and helping bring Will aboard. Jack climbed up the ladder, pausing only to give Squirrel one last grin.

"Jack," Squirrel leapt up after him, "You don't understand. We have to…"

Pintel's sudden shout cut her off. "You're pullin' too hard!"

"You ain't pullin' hard enough!" Ragetti snapped back.

Squirrel ducked around the bickering pirates, trying to be heard. "Jack!"

Gibbs appeared beside the swaggering captain. "Where's the commodore?" He asked.

Jack clutched his jar of dirt tighter. "Fell behind."

Gibbs paused, head bowed. "My prayers be with him." He brightened. "Well, best not wallow in our grief…"

"Jack!"

Gibbs smiled at Squirrel. "You left this in my care, lass." He held out Squirrel's cloak for her to take.

"Thankyou," Squirrel accepted it, distracted. She swung it around her shoulders, tying it tight, but continued to try to get Jack's attention. "Captain, we have to go back. It's important! Really important!"

Jack twirled on his feet, his eyes pained. "Luv, there comes a time when one is forced to make difficult decisions." Squirrel was stopped by the seriousness in Jack's eyes. He continued, "It comes to this, luv. It's either me… or the commodore. And face facts, m'dear," he grinned, "You can't have us both." He wagged his eyebrows at her.

Squirrel flushed red. "That's not what this is about, captain!" He turned away, climbing up to the helm; Squirrel climbed up after him. "He took the letters of marque!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Did he now?" Jack checked his coat pockets, then frowned. "That sod."

"But the letters are useless," Squirrel prompted, "Beckett wants something in return, remember?"

Jack looked at Squirrel curiously. "The compass?"

Squirrel pulled it from her belt and held it out. "No, I have that. I'm talking about…"

Jack handed the jar of dirt to Squirrel, took the compass, tied it to his belt, and then took the jar of dirt back. "Well done, luv," he said, smiling at her for her ingenuity. "Thought I forgot it back there for a minute."

Squirrel felt like tearing out her hair. "Jack, will you please listen to me! This is important!"

Gibbs came up alongside Jack, not seeing the agonised expression on Squirrel's face. "Shame about the commodore," Gibbs grinned, slapping Jack on the shoulder, "But the bright side is: you got off free and clear."

Squirrel couldn't speak - she was paralysed by fear.

Jack saw the look on her face. "What is it, luv?"

The _Flying Dutchman_ thundered from beneath the waves, a behemoth bursting from the deep. Squirrel clung to Jack's arm, seeking some manner of comfort. The _Flying Dutchman_ drew alongside the _Pearl_, the ships' hulls just feet from each other. Squirrel gasped as she caught sight of the cursed ship's captain; there was no mistaking the murder in Davy Jones' eyes.

"No…" Squirrel breathed, wide eyed and trembling.

"Lord Almighty," Gibbs crossed himself, "Deliver us."

Jack moved, leaving Squirrel behind and alone. He pushed Gibbs aside, saying as he passed, "I'll handle this, mate." He lifted the jar of dirt in both hands and whistled, attracting Davy Jones' attention. "Oi, fish-face!"

"Jack, don't!" Squirrel tried to stop him.

"Lose somethin', did ye?" So full of pride, Jack lost his footing and tumbled, falling down the stairs and landing with a thud. The crew let out a collective 'ooh', wincing in sympathy. But Jack seemed fine. He held up the jar of dirt triumphantly. "Got it!" He stood up too, laughing over the ship's railing at Davy Jones. "Come to negotiate have you, you slimy git?"

"Jack!" Squirrel hissed, motioning frantically. "No! Don't!"

"Look what I got!" Jack shook the jar at Davy Jones as he sashayed across the deck. He crowed, sing-song, "I gotta jar of dir-irt! I gotta jar of dir-irt! And guess what's inside it!"

Davy Jones was clearly unimpressed. He turned and barked an order to his crew. Shudders went down Squirrel's spine - the reason for this fear became very apparent when eight carved mouths along the side of the _Dutchman_ yawned open, and eight cannon muzzles pushed through, aimed point blank at the _Pearl_.

Jack finally seemed to realise the folly of what he was doing. "H'rd'to'st'bard," he whimpered.

"HARD TO STARBOARD!" Elizabeth screamed.

"Brace the foreyard!" Will shouted after her.

The crew, their very lives at stake, scrambled to obey. Everyone aboard burst into frenzied motion. But Squirrel stood, rooted to the spot, staring over at the deck of the _Dutchman_. Davy Jones stared her down, his eyes fierce and unrelenting. Somehow, though he didn't speak, his voice - the voice she'd heard from her dream - came coldly and cleanly to her, like a knife thrust. _You again_. She heard the lullaby in her head again, but this time it wasn't sweet or sad or delicate. It thundered at her, powerful and menacing, like an approaching sea monster. Squirrel pulled her cloak around her shoulders, trembling.

Gibbs frantically turned the wheel, and the _Pearl_ peeled away from the _Dutchman_. Squirrel lost sight of the ship's fearsome captain, and her wits slowly returned to her. _This is folly!_ She stared about her as the crew scrambled in the canvas and the rigging. _Turning tail? Exposing the stern broadside to a rack of cannons? We'll be torn apart!_

The cannons barked like the hounds of hell, and the _Pearl_ bucked and groaned as cannonballs tore at her hull, but she held firm and sailed hard and fast.

Everyone was shouting in panic. Squirrel looked back out to sea. The _Dutchman_ was wheeling, it's dragon-skeleton of a figurehead snarling at her in a mocking leer.

"She's on us!" Ragetti's voice yelped from on deck. "She's on us!"

From behind the figurehead, two more carved mouths yawned open. Squirrel's eyes widened with despair. _Fore-guns? They have fore-guns?_ She barely had time to shout a warning before more cannonballs pelted the ship. By some God-sent blessing, none of the cannonballs hit the rudder. But the stern of the _Pearl_ was all agape, the wood tattered and torn. Squirrel screamed as the lantern above her head exploded in shards of glass and metal. She fell to the deck, unharmed but shaken. She got to her feet quickly, keeping her head down.

Jack appeared, the jar of dirt cradled in one hand. He pushed Gibbs aside, taking command of the helm. He looked to the sails, adjusting the _Pearl_'s direction by a mere fraction. Voices on deck bellowed and shouted and prayed with words Squirrel couldn't catch. She, like Jack, looked to the black sails of the _Pearl_. The canvas billowed, and slowly, slowly, the _Dutchman_ was left behind. She was out of range. And she couldn't catch up.

"On deck, luv," Jack ordered softly. Squirrel jumped to it, her nerves electric with fear.

"She's falling behind!" Elizabeth cried, looking back over the port side. Squirrel couldn't help but join her at the railing, and was surprised at how far behind the _Dutchman_ had fallen. _The _Black Pearl_ really is the fastest ship in the Caribbean_, Squirrel beamed, though her heart was a frightened animal in her chest.

"We're the faster?" Will asked Gibbs, gladly incredulous.

"Against the wind," Gibbs said, "The _Dutchman_ beats us. That's how she takes her prey. But with the wind…"

"We have the advantage." Will looked to the sea, a smile on his lips.

Gibbs grinned. "Aye."

Will caught Squirrel's eye and smiled encouragingly. Squirrel smiled back, then leapt up into the ratlines and looked out over the water. In the distance, the _Dutchman_'s sails slowly furled, curling inwards like a shrinking anemone's fronds. Squirrel frowned. _They're not chasing us anymore? Why? A minute ago they wanted to tear us apart. Why stop now?_

"They're givin' up!" Marty called, and the crewman aboard all cheered. Pintel and Ragetti even broke into a jig.

Squirrel swung down from the rigging, frowning, her heartbeat loud in her ears. _Something's not right. Not right at all_. _It's not over yet_. Foreboding pushed aside, Squirrel ran to Jack.

"Jack! There's something…!"

Will was at Jack's side, his eyes dark. "My father," he said, his voice low, "Is on that ship. If we can outrun her, we can take her. We should turn and fight!"

Jack looked like a cat with the cream. "Why fight when you can negotiate?" He asked, setting the jar of dirt on the railing and drumming his fingers on the lid.

"Jack!" Squirrel shouted. "We can't!" She nearly sobbed when she saw she finally had Jack's attention. "Davy Jones isn't you! He'd rather kill us all! He's not going to show us any mercy!"

Jack smiled, cocky and self-assured. "Anything's possible, luv. All you need is the proper leverage." Will did not look impressed at the term, though he looked to Squirrel, curious about her outburst of emotion. Squirrel grit her teeth and forced out the words.

"You don't have…!"

The entire ship bucked, rocked, shuddered to a sudden standstill. Squirrel cried out as she lost her footing, falling down the stairs. There was the sound of shattering glass, and Squirrel looked up to see dark coloured sand strewn across the deck below her. Jack leapt over her, and scrambled around in the dirt on his knees; Will went to Squirrel's side and helped her to her feet. As soon as she was upright, Squirrel ran to Jack, and stood before him.

"Where is it?" Jack asked, frantically, brushing away the dirt and looking all around, "Where's the thump-thump?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Squirrel said, standing over him, her voice a choked shout. "It's gone!"

Jack looked up at her, and Squirrel felt her heart break. In Jack's eyes was such pain, a hope shattered into more pieces than the jar of dirt he'd so treasured. He looked at her, pleading: _Say it isn't so. Please. Don't tell me I'm going to die_.

Squirrel forced herself to say the words, but they only came out in a dry whisper. "He took it." She felt tears well in her eyes as Jack stared down at the dirt, all life seeming to drain out of him. _All hope abandon, ye who enter here_…

"It's not a reef!" Will's shout made Squirrel turn away from the heart-wrenching figure of Jack. Will was pulling Elizabeth into the heart of the deck, taking her safe into his arms. "Get away from the rails!"

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed.

Will took a steadying breath; what fear he showed was quickly smothered by bravery. "The Kraken."

Squirrel's hand flew to her mouth, smothering a scream. _No… No, no, no…_ The sound of the heartbeat - not her own heart this time - thundered in her ears. And each beat seemed to laugh at her: _You're dead. You're dead. You're dead_.

"To arms!" Will shouted.

"Load guns!" Gibbs bellowed. "Defend the mast!"

"It'll attack to starboard," Will shouted over the scrambling and shouts of the hundred-man crew, "I've seen it before. Roll out the cannons and hold for my signal!"

The crew scrambled to obey. Men ran below to prime the cannons, to raid the armoury. On deck, men armed themselves with spear and harpoon.

Squirrel leapt across the deck to Will and grabbed hold of his sleeve. "Will," she asked, unable to mask the fear in her eyes, "Are we going to die?"

Will looked at Squirrel, long and hard. That gaze of his was solid, sturdy, unyielding. He was afraid, true. But he was not going to run like a coward.

"No," he said firmly. "We're going to fight." And he left her standing there, alone on the deck.

But Squirrel didn't feel alone. Her heart slowed - she wasn't afraid anymore. Squirrel smiled, strengthened in resolve by his words and his eyes.

Someone tapped her on the arm. Squirrel looked down - Marty held out a pistol for her.

"'Ere, Miss," he said, "Take it."

Squirrel frowned, shaking her head. "But I don't know how to use one. I've never used one before."

Marty clicked back the flint, then handed the pistol to Squirrel, handle first. "Just 'old on and pull the trigger, Miss. 'S not that 'ard."

Squirrel gingerly took the weapon from Marty. "Thankyou," she murmured. The pirate nodded, then went off to stand on deck, readying two pistols of his own.

The gun was heavy. She couldn't hold it in one hand, not with her strength. But with both hands… Squirrel levelled the gun at the sea, staring along the length of the barrel. _It's just like my shanghai_, Squirrel realised, _Just a good deal more dangerous. I only have one shot. I can't miss_, she thought, determined.

The _Pearl_ shuddered. Through the soles of her shoes, through the timbers of the ship, Squirrel felt _something_ creeping up, probing, touching, caressing, reaching…

The Kraken was here.

"Easy, boys!" Will shouted.

Squirrel readied her gun, closing her eyes to steady her nerves. But when she opened them again, she almost dropped the gun in surprise. _No! Impossible!_ Squirrel stared, helpless and hypnotised in the presence of the rising tentacles. Tentacles which rose alongside the ship like huge, frightening snakes. _It was just a dream! I dreamed this! It was just a nightmare from my childhood. It's not real! It's not real!_

"Will?"

_But it is real_, a cold voice told her. _This is real, and will kill you if you let it_.

"Hold! Hold!"

"Will?"

_The snakes in my dream were striped_, Squirrel told herself. _These aren't!_

"Hold!"

_Stripes or not_, the inner voice was edged with steel, _You'll still die if you do nothing_.

_I killed them! They're supposed to be dead!_

"WILL!"

_So kill them again!_

"FIRE!"

Squirrel screamed, defiant and terrified, and pulled the trigger. The tentacle before her shuddered and twitched, a gaping hole torn across its surface. The recoil of the gun made it fly from Squirrel's hands to skitter across the deck. All around her, the sound of cannon fire was deafening. Squirrel put her hands to her ears and screamed. But she was unable to take her eyes from the twisting and turning of the snakes around her.

_Dead! Dead for a ducat, dead!_

The tentacle fell like a broken tree, crashing beside her. Squirrel screamed and jumped aside - the tentacle slid away, leaving behind it a trail of blood and slime and broken wood. The sight of the trail it left behind was so eerily similar to the dream that Squirrel felt her fears return.

_It was just a dream! It means nothing!_

_There are no coincidences_, the cold steely voice told her. _Everything you know - everything you are - was made for a purpose. Are you going to let that purpose slip from you? Are you going to die useless?_

That hated word galvanised her. _I'm not useless!_ Squirrel turned on the spot, crossing the blood-smeared deck with sure steps, her cloak billowing out behind her. "Will!" She shouted, searching for him.

He rose from below, his eyes seeking hers. "What is it, Miss Grey?"

"It's a squid!" Squirrel said, moving to his side and walking with him. "A really _big_ squid. We're not going to kill it by shooting off its arms." _Like the squid on the mop, the one that squirted me with ink. We need to crush it; we need to cut off the head in order to make it let go_.

"I know." Will said, soft and understanding. He lifted his voice, addressing everyone. "It'll be back. We need to get off the ship."

Elizabeth looked over Will's shoulder, eyes frightened. "There's no boats."

Will and Squirrel turned. The longboat - their last hope - was smashed, shattered by the falling tentacles. Squirrel swore, prompting alarmed looks from both Will and Elizabeth. They hadn't expected words so foul to come from a woman like her.

"Sorry," Squirrel muttered, embarrassed.

"Wait," Will frowned, watching a barrel roll across the deck curiously. He turned back. "Pull back the grates," Will hold Elizabeth. To Squirrel, he said, "Put all the kegs of gunpowder onto a net in the cargo hold." He handed a musket to Elizabeth. "Whatever you do, don't miss."

"As soon as you're clear," Elizabeth said, stoically, though there was no mistaking the tremble in her voice.

Will turned back to Squirrel. "Go. Quickly."

Squirrel nodded, seeing what he was planning and emboldened by it. "Aye captain!" She shouted, as she made to run below. Before she'd even reached the stairs, the words she had spoken sank in to her. She paused in her tracks, frowning. _Captain?_ No-one else seemed to have noticed. _It's true, though - Will would make a fine captain. I knew that the moment I met him_.

_But where is my captain? Where is Jack Sparrow?_

"You lot!" Squirrel called to a bunch of dithering sailors, "Into the hold! Ready a net and load the powder onto it! We're going to send that monster back into the depths!"

"Aye, ma'am!" They shouted, no longer mocking or leering or dismissive of a woman aboard. They were terrified, and orders were the only thing keeping them from becoming frightened gibbering wrecks of humanity.

Squirrel turned about, casting her eyes about. There on the deck was the dirt and the broken glass. But where was Jack?

She looked out to sea, where the _Flying Dutchman_ loomed on the horizon, mocking and cruel. _You bastard. What have you done to Jack?_ Angry tears filled Squirrel's eyes. _No! He can't be dead! He's Captain Jack Sparrow! _Squirrel turned away from the _Dutchman_, her head held high.

And then, she saw him. And her heart strings snapped.

"You…" Anger, hot and painful, coursed through her veins, followed swiftly by the hollow broken emptiness of betrayal. There was no mistaking the way the oars kissed the water, no mistaking the figure in that longboat. _So, you fly your true colours at last. Your precious, precious life is in danger, so you leave the game, and leave the rest of us to suffer in your stead_. The tears in her eyes vanished.

_Fine then_, Squirrel thought, strangely calm. _You go, Jack Sparrow. You leave us to die. I won't shed a tear for you. You may be among the living, but I won't shed a tear for you. After all, you've left us for dead. And the dead don't weep. Especially not for cowards_.

_I won't weep for the dead_.

Tia's face appeared momentarily before Squirrel. _You are wiser than most_, the swamp witch mouthed, but Squirrel didn't feel wise. She felt… hollow.

_I hope you hear us screaming, Captain_, she thought bitterly, as she turned away. She caught sight of the green-covered ship in the distance, and her mouth twisted painfully. _I hope you hear us, too, Captain_, she added, spitefully. _And I hope it breaks your heart_. She looked back over her shoulder. _Yours, too_.

She went below, to where William Turner - good, dependable, honourable Captain Turner - was in the cargo hold, overseeing the gunpowder.

And she tried to ignore the ache of her pounding heart.

Will looked up at Squirrel as she descended. Squirrel kept calm, but she did not return his smile. "How are we doing?" She asked, her voice a husky whisper, crossing through the darkness of the hold to his side.

"Not good," Will whispered back, rubbing the back of his neck in concern.

"Only half a dozen kegs of powder," Gibbs shrugged helplessly, from where he stood on the stairs.

Squirrel closed her eyes and breathed out, a defeated sigh. Six barrels would do nothing. Not against a beast like the Kraken. She'd known - she'd_ known_! - that they'd needed more powder, back when they were at Tortuga. But it seems that luck had been against them.

_I don't believe in 'luck'_, Squirrel through savagely, opening her eyes again. She looked to Will, for guidance and hope.

Will's own eyes were hard-edged. "Then load the rum!" He shouted to Gibbs, then turned and leapt down the stairs, descending into the depths of the hold.

"Aye," Gibbs shouted, though it looked as though it pained him, "The rum too!" He climbed up on deck bravely, though not without some hesitation. The crew all groaned, but they followed the order.

Squirrel almost laughed aloud at the irony. She'd ordered the rum in order to lead these men to their deaths - and it would now be instrumental in saving their very lives!

Her own words echoed back to her: _I didn't think it was right, but I did it anyway!_

_There are no coincidences_, the steely voice said, stronger now. Squirrel silently agreed.

She walked slowly but surely below, to where the barrels were stacked, and rested her hand on one of them. There was enough rum here for a barrel a man each. Enough for to send the Kraken to its watery grave?

She drew her dagger, and brought down the hilt hard; the wooden lid of the barrel shattered. She cupped her hands, filled them with rum, and drank deep. She'd never had straight rum before - the most she'd had was grog, watered down till it was more water than alcohol. The bittersweet liquid was strong, heady, and it made her reel. It burned her tongue and throat as it went down, but it steadied her nerves and calmed the pain in her heart.

"You heard him!" Squirrel shouted, her throat raw from the rum. The men turned to look at her. "Load up the rum, then come and take a drink!" She indicated the open barrel. Men came towards her, the fear in their eyes tempered by the need to appear brave. Squirrel nodded at them all, seeking to reassure them as much as to reassure herself, then ran out to climb onto the deck.

Perhaps it was the drink that gave her courage. Perhaps it was the silent reassurances of William Turner. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she was going to die. Whatever the case, Squirrel rose up on deck, calm and certain. She picked up a discarded pistol in one hand for a club; in the other hand she picked up a sword that lay abandoned on the deck. Though the sword was heavy and foreign to her, she levelled it, and watched as the water before the _Pearl_ buckled and twisted with the writhing of the Kraken.

She'd go down fighting. And she'd make sure that both Captain Sparrow and Captain Jones - cowards both, for watching from where they were - heard her dying screams.


	17. Kraken

**Disclaimer**: "Summon the LAWYER!" "Nooooooooes!"

**A/N**: I am aware that squids have more than eight legs. Please excuse Squirrel's inaccuracy later, but she was kinda under a bit of stress at the time. This chapter was… interesting… to write. Especially trying to explain the slow-mo scenes. Anyone who comments about tentacles and screaming schoolgirls will be death'd.

* * *

The sea was quiet and calm, but Squirrel could feel - sense - the Kraken beneath the ship. The _Pearl_'s timbers shuddered in the creature's grip, rolling side to side against the current as the creature repositioned itself, tightening its hold. 

Squirrel twirled the sword in the air, a bit of artfulness she instantly regretted. Her wrist - already aching from the weight of the sword - twinged, shooting pain up her arm. Wincing, Squirrel gripped the hilt of the sword hard, trying to keep focused, trying to fight the pain. She looked around, breathing slow, waiting. _Your play, Davy Jones_. _Let's see what your monster's got_.

"You coward."

Squirrel looked over her shoulder, and saw Elizabeth looking out to sea. There was defeat, incredulity in her pose. Broken trust surrounded her like a veil. Squirrel felt her heart ache all over again, seeing Jack fleeing in her mind's eye just as Elizabeth saw him now. Slowly, the grey-cloaked woman crossed to Elizabeth's side.

"Forget him," Squirrel said softly, her voice hoarse. "After all… he's forgetting us." She didn't even bother trying to hide the pain she felt.

Elizabeth bowed her head, gripping the ratlines so hard her knuckles were turning white. "I never thought he would…" There were no words fitting to this betrayal, this cowardice. None.

"Neither did I." Squirrel looked across the deck, to the other sea, then back to Elizabeth. "Are you ready?"

Elizabeth looked up at Squirrel, eyes hurt but dry of tears. "Are you?"

Squirrel lifted her sword, flicking the point to eye-level, then lowered it; a silent salute. Elizabeth nodded, and turned away, sparing the fleeing Jack only one backwards glance. Both women walked across the deck, each taking their positions and standing firm. Both shared a determination, a surety, a confidence. They stood, waiting the inevitable; one stood near the helm, the colour of her hair and skin gleaming gold, the other stood at the heart of the deck, fingering the silver amulet at her throat. One stood covered in sunshine, the other wrapped in the blue-grey cloak of moonlight. The two women's eyes met once more, and both nodded, each acknowledging the other. They knew what would come. So they waited, ready for it. As ready as they could be.

They did not have to wait long.

The entire ship shuddered, buckled, twisted. Men lost their balance, falling to their knees, slipping from the rigging, staggering. Squirrel crouched low, sword in one hand and pistol in the other, shaken but unmoved. She tucked the doubloon back under her shirt. _Here it comes_.

The water on either side of the ship gasped as the Kraken's tentacles rose, breaching the surface of the sea. They closed around the _Pearl_ like giant's fingers; fingers which whipped and snapped around the hold; fingers which reached over the deck in a frenzy of destruction. Pistols fired, swords sliced, cannons roared; men screamed, screamed, screamed and died.

Squirrel drew back her arm and threw the spent pistol - it hit a tentacle and bounced harmlessly away, but the tentacle turned, seeking new prey. Squirrel ran, holding the sword in both hands, swinging and slashing at whatever stood in her path. The air tore at her throat with every breath - she was moving quickly, quickly, but not quick enough. Each of the tentacles moved with sure, swift purpose, a purpose that was casual but complete devastation.

_You're dead. You're dead. You're dead_.

"HEAVE!" Gibbs shouted. "Heave like you're getting paid for it!"

The steel in Squirrel's hands was heavy and unwieldily - it came too close to her on too many occasions. And the Kraken's arms moved fast, too fast, faster than she could run. She mad a mad dash across the deck, halting and jumping and swerving about as the Kraken brushed passed behind her, above her, alongside her. Every time one of those horrid green limbs came anywhere near her, she slashed and stabbed at them. Her throat was raw and sore, her muscles burned, and her lungs pleaded for air, but there was no time for that. If she stopped, if she hesitated, she was dead.

A tentacle swept before her, and Squirrel brought the sword down, hard. The blade sliced deep, holding onto the flesh of the Kraken and not letting go. The tentacle writhed, twitching in pain, flicking Squirrel's grip off of the sword, leaving her alone and unarmed on the deck. Helpless.

Something slammed into her from behind, and she was pushed to the deck. It was eerie - as she gasped for breath she couldn't help but notice that it somehow seemed somehow much quieter. Quieter, compared to the chaos she heard now. _I've been screaming this whole time_. Her ears were ringing.

The timbers below her echoed; there were sounds beneath her which she knew would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Screams and shrieks of helpless men, the crushing of crates, the scrape of monstrous arms against wood, and - Squirrel was nearly sick - the careless, callous crunch and pop of broken bones. Squirrel heaved herself to her feet quickly, wanting no part of it but unable to escape. There was no escape.

_Did I condemn those men to die?_ Squirrel's eyes went wide with horror. _Men were trapped below. I opened that barrel. They stayed down there because of what I did. Because of me. I killed them. I killed them_.

The Kraken's horrible heartbeat laughed at her - _You're dead. You're dead. You're dead_.

Squirrel ducked as a tentacle swept towards her, and rolled aside. _I need a weapon! _She searched with panicked flickering eyes for something, anything… Her hand closed around a length of rope. It was better than nothing. She stood, readying it in her hands as the Kraken's tentacles swept across the deck. With a scream, she flicked it up in the air above her head, and brought it down as hard as she could. It was a mere slap, a harmless slap, which the Kraken did not notice. With fear and desperation coursing through her veins, Squirrel drew the rope back again, and again, and again, each time building speed until it cracked like a whip and drew blood. Squirrel crowed, but that crow soon turned to a scream.

The Kraken turned its attention to the loud and stinging insect on the deck.

Squirrel dived, rolling out of the path of the tentacles. They didn't find her - frustrated but patient, the tentacles probed the deck, spreading out, searching. And they searched quickly. They didn't care what or who got in the way, either. Prey was prey - food was food.

Squirrel refitted the rope in her hands and gritted her teeth. A tentacle found her; Squirrel snapped the rope in the air over her head and brought it down hard and sure. The tentacle recoiled and withdrew, hurt. But it would return.

A few brave men manned the crank which took Will and the net of kegs and barrels out of the hold and up into the air. But Squirrel had no time to think of them. She had no time to think - there was only time to act. Men all around her were screaming and dying, torn from the rigging, torn from friends' arms, flicked up in the air, over the water, into the Kraken's cold domain.

Squirrel stared out at the sea, suddenly paralysed. _I can't swim_.

_You're dead_. The vengeful tentacle rose above her. _You're dead_.

Squirrel shrieked, snapping the rope in her hands like a whip. Screaming, she drove the Kraken's arms back, back. She stood on the deck with a man she didn't know, a man she'd never seen before. He looked to her with such hopelessness in his eyes, knowing he was going to die. Squirrel ignored his fear - she didn't need a mirror. Still screaming, she lashed out at tentacles that came for her. She held the centre of the rope, and twirled it like a staff. Two stinging ends slapped the Kraken's tentacles, leaving welts or drawing minuscule amounts of blood or doing nothing but provoke the Kraken into attacking further. The arms rose before her and behind her and at every side; she fought them off, screaming. The man who fought beside Squirrel roared in frightened challenge, galvanised by her fear. His sword struck at the tentacles Squirrel could not defeat. His sword drew blood where her rope did not. His sword repelled the attackers that sought the rope. Squirrel and the sailor fought together. They watched each other's back. They fought for their lives.

"Miss Grey! Behind ye!"

A shot rang out, and Squirrel felt a bullet pass her shoulder. She danced away as the tentacle behind her thrashed and twitched. Kraken blood seared the air. Gibbs threw the now-useless pistol aside and ran to Squirrel, hand on the hilt of his sword. He was going to fight, defend her and his and everyone's lives. He looked about to speak, but Squirrel's eyes were wild, uncomprehending. All she saw were the snakes - all she knew was the fear. No words: words were useless. Only fear.

A tentacle swept across the deck like a nobleman's hand sweeping crumbs from his table. Yet it missed Squirrel, missed Gibbs, and plucked up the sailor between them. The sailor's sword was swept away - gone, lost in the carnage. Gibbs grabbed the man's hands, trying to save him; Squirrel slapped at the Kraken's arm with the rope, screaming all the while, acting out of instinct and panic rather than camaraderie.

"I got you!" Gibbs shouted. "I got you!"

But the Kraken plucked the sailor from Gibbs' grip and pulled the sailor, screaming, out to sea. Gibbs reeled from the recoil, tripping and falling backwards. The tentacle meant for him came and hit Squirrel instead. She tumbled, her senses reeling from the blow; somehow, she was still holding onto the rope with her left hand; her right hand flailed uselessly, reaching for who knows what.

The Kraken relieved Squirrel of her weapon. The suckers on the underbelly of the arm snagged the rope, and pulled it through her grip. Squirrel screamed as the skin on the palm of her hand was ripped off. The rope burned through her palm, tearing the skin with it. It was over in an instant, but the pain was excruciating and continued long after. Squirrel curled up around her hand, and stared, horrified, at the blood sprouting, pooling, congealing across her torn-open hand. She lay there, coiled up on the deck, still and staring.

"Move, lass!" Gibbs shouted. "Get up and move!" He shoved a sword in her right hand and hauled her to her feet, then was gone. Whether he was gone of his own free will, Squirrel didn't know. Didn't care.

She looked and saw a sailor fall, shaken from the rigging like a ripe fruit. He was screaming, calling for his mother. Two tentacles caught him in mid-air, crushing the sailor between the two of them like… like… like a ripe fruit. Plucked and crushed. Blood and bone and organs splattered across the deck, the man's screams cut off too, too soon. Like his life. Plucked and crushed like a fruit. Blood on the deck. Blood.

_You're dead_, the tentacles turned to the sound of Squirrel's scream. _You're dead_.

Fear made her lose her senses. Panicked, she forgot everything. She wanted was to live, but she even forgot that. The fear consumed everything. She threw aside the sword and ran, screaming, jumping and ducking and running over the deck, dodging the tentacles, screaming and screaming and screaming.

Everywhere, her uncle chased her, Dawn reached for her, lecherous drunkards and vindictive whores with knives and pokers and swords and broken bottles and clawed hands wanted to bring her down. Squirrel saw nothing but the faces of the things which haunted her nightmares.

But the nightmares were real this time; the snakes were sure to strike her eventually.

The world slowed - screams and shouts and words were drawn out and deep and inaudible, as though Squirrel were underwater. Every movement was slow, slow, agonisingly slow. The air was as thick as treacle - each step was a forced push. It was like being underwater. The rigging was still being torn, the masts were still being splintered, men were still dying, and the Kraken's arms still brushed and fingered across the whole ship, but all happened slowly, all impossibly slowly and in near silence. Squirrel shut her eyes, her screams not coming high and panicked as she knew they should but low and desolate, warped by this strange thick air.

_You're. Dead_.

_A man leant his head against a door, head bowed and eyes closed, lit by a single lantern._ "God Almighty," _he said, his voice low._ "Protect me as I go out today t'do what I have t'do, t' keep us alive. Keep me safe from the men who wish me and mine harm. Lord, please… continue to bestow your blessings upon me, though I, like all men, do not deserve 'em." _He sighed, wiping his face with one hand. He seemed to be crying, though Squirrel could see no tears._

"Keep m'dear Rosie safe," _the man's voice was lower now, and trembled_. "Lord, I've prayed time and time again for some chance to leave this forsaken island, but it does not seem in Your plan for it t'be so… Lord, keep m' Rosie safe. She deserves so much better than this. Keep Rose and the children safe. Though I be such a sinner, though I be a man who does not deserve Your grace… please. Please keep Rose and the children safe.

"If," _the man continued, somehow stronger_, "If, Lord, it be in your plan for me t'die today, I am ready t'go. I make m'peace with you, Lord. I know I'm a sinner, I know… But I know too that you wouldn't ha' given me one of your own angels, just to make us part in the end." _He smiled fondly, then sighed again_. "I know you'll take me someday, Lord. If it be this day, then I'm ready. Just keep my family safe is all I ask. Please, Lord…" _He sighed, and steeled himself_.

"Lord, by the goodness of your grace, I'm ready to die. If needs be, Lord, I am ready to go t'you." _The man sighed, pushing away from the door_. "Amen." _He put his hat back on his head, sighed, wiped at his eyes, and turned. His eyes widened as he saw Squirrel._ "M'darlin' girl, what are you doin' up? Shouldn't you be a-bed? It's far too late for you to be out and about." _He smiled, so loving, so kind… So familiar._

Squirrel opened her eyes.

The viscous air thinned, thinned, and suddenly the movements of crew and Kraken returned harshly and abruptly to normal speed. And such a speed - the Kraken's arms moved like the cracking of a whip, each one seemingly independent but each one moving with such control and collective purpose. Fingers of the same hand. A hand that would eventually crush the _Pearl_ in its grip, and all along with it.

_We stand no chance. We're dead. We're all dead._

"Lord!" she shouted her father's prayer, trying to calm herself, "By the goodness of Your grace I'm ready to die!" Her voice rose in a rough shriek as the tentacles found her, herded her to the deck, to the rails. "No! I'm not! I'm not ready to die! I'M NOT READY TO DIE!"

Squirrel tripped and fell. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky, her heart wild and her blood pounding in her ears. _I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead_. She felt someone grab her by the arms and drag her to the shelter of the stairs, through the broken doors of the captain's quarters. A tentacle slammed down on the deck where she'd been lying mere seconds ago. The timbers of the deck buckled with the blow. Squirrel screamed, little more than a feeble mew. She had no breath left to scream with.

"Are you alright?"

"Squirrel!"

Squirrel looked shakily up at Pintel and Ragetti - her unlikely saviours - then looked out over the deck. Will stood on the crates, his sword flying, screaming at the Kraken in defiance. The Kraken disdained him, for now. But soon… Soon, when all else was destroyed, the Kraken would find him. And he stood alone. _Will needs help_. Slowly, Squirrel felt the adrenaline in her veins tame, felt the fear turn, channelled to another purpose.

_It's just an animal_, Squirrel realised, getting to her feet._ A really big one, but it's still just a squid - an animal_. _Nothing more_.

"Your hand's bleeding!" Ragetti said, almost gibbering in panic. "You should wrap it up!" He started tearing at his sleeve.

"No time," Squirrel stopped him, her eyes locked on an abandoned sword, forgotten on the deck. "Will needs help." She adjusted her cloak, girding herself with courage enough to leave this shelter.

"We're stayin' put!" Pintel said, his normally tough exterior stripped away by terror. Ragetti clung to the axe he was holding, and nodded frantically in agreement.

Squirrel looked to him, eyes steady. "Then God be with you both. And also with me." She sprang out onto the deck, leaving them.

She danced and skipped and leapt her way through the tentacles and debris and bodies of dead men, until she reached the sword and held it tight in her right hand, her bleeding left hand closing loosely over the top. The Kraken's tentacles whipped past overhead, some coming close, too close, to Squirrel. But this time, she was ready.

"Come on, you slimy, blubbery, murdering bastard," she hissed, her senses electric for the next arm that swung her way, "You murdering, eight-legged, heartless, unfeeling, ink-spewing son-of-a-bitch. Come on!" She bellowed, roared, and charged.

The tentacle nearest her was focused on crushing another man to death. It didn't expect a woman to run screaming at it, a sword held in both hands. It didn't expect such a large chunk of its hide to be sliced open. It flailed in the air, spraying blood about. Squirrel grinned, ducking the spray, and turned to face her next opponent.

"Come on!" She slashed at the arm's dinner-plate-sized suckers. "Come on!"

Three tentacles converged on her, seeking her. Squirrel laughed - did she really sound so high-pitched and panicked? - and danced aside.

"I'll kill you all," she hissed backing slowly as the Kraken's arms pushed her to the sea. "All of you!" She screamed and slashed and hacked and sliced at the tentacles. She had her back to the rails now. There was nowhere else to go. "I'm not going to DIE LIKE THIS!" She screamed. "I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU KILL ME!"

She was still screaming when the Kraken's arm caught her from behind, and crushed her in a cruel parody of an embrace.


	18. Heartbeat

**Disclaimer**: It's only a fanfiction, mate.

**A/N**: No note from me this time. Just read on.

* * *

The sky and the sea spun - there was no up, there was no down, there was nothing but that thing holding her around her waist, crushing her slowly, crushing her even as it shook her back and forth and back and forth… She had no breath left to scream. 

The sword was gone. It had flown from her grip, lost to her. She could not reach her dagger, either. But she kicked and struggled nonetheless. Desperate to live - desperate not to die. The Kraken brought her down, down, down to the sea, then shot back up into the air, snaking through the rigging.

Squirrel clawed at the monster's arm, digging her fingers deep into the slimy foul skin. She knew nothing, saw nothing, could do nothing. The Kraken did not let go - it continued to shake her, flick her between sea and sky. It showed her the rigging, the faces of dying men: frightened dying men. It played with her, showing her what fear was, showing her every inch of what it had done to the _Pearl_ and telling her what it would do. Soon, though, it would stop its toying, and take Squirrel to the sea. And there, she would die.

_NO!_ Squirrel clawed with both hands, nails going as deep as they could. _LET ME GO!_ Fear won over disgust, and she bit down into the Kraken's skin. She fought tooth and claw, like an animal. The taste of the Kraken was foul - salt and slime and rotting fish and corpses - but she bit into it, fighting a rising gorge, scoring the tentacle with her teeth and her nails, drawing blood and causing the beast pain.

The Kraken shook her, the limb that held her tight trembling. Squirrel dug her fingers into open wound, pulling and stabbing at whatever she could reach under the Kraken's toughened hide. Her bloody hand stung, burned by the Kraken's blood and slime.

And then she was flying.

The Kraken had thrown her, irritated by the fact its toy was not playing by its rules. Squirrel remembered the man that had fallen from the rigging - like a fruit - and she twisted herself in mid-air. A piece of torn rigging was her salvation as two tentacles slammed underneath her, missing her by bare inches. But she grabbed the rope in her torn hand. She screamed as she slid downwards, losing more skin and flesh to the bite of the twisted hemp. Too much in pain, her grip bloody, she slipped and fell. No Kraken arm caught her this time. She fell - and landed - of her own accord.

She landed heavily, landing on her stomach in the arms of a man. Gasping from fear and from the screaming, she struggled to pull herself up. Someone had caught her, someone had broken her fall. Squirrel pulled herself up to her elbows, coughing and gasping, trying to see who lay beneath her. She didn't recognise him.

His face was a mask, a smooth canvas, a rosette of blank and wrinkled flesh. He was dead. His face had been ripped clean off.

With a hiccup of fear, Squirrel fell back, crawling back over the deck, away from the dead man.

Something large and merciless crushed out of the blue, sweeping Squirrel aside like a rag doll. She rolled aside before she was pushed overboard, but the tentacle's heartless grip snatched at her, ripping the cloak from off of her back. She looked up, her eyes wide and alarmed; her eyes followed the blue-grey silhouette that danced in the air.

_Mother!_

The rigging was torn and ragged, but she still leapt through it as though it were neat and tidy. She climbed through it, chasing after the whip like appendage of the Kraken. She had to get her cloak back, she had to, she had to! It was all she had of her mother! All she had!

With a scream, Squirrel leapt out into open space, her dagger in her hand. She couldn't recall drawing it. The knife dug into the flesh of the Kraken's arm, and the rubbery tentacle shuddered under Squirrel as she clawed and climbed, reaching for her cloak. She stabbed again and again, using each knife thrust to pull her further up the Kraken's thieving limb.

She screamed and screamed as she stabbed and climbed and reached. The tentacle whipped around in the air, trying to throw off the annoying parasite. But Squirrel didn't want to leave. Resigned to the pain, the Kraken's tentacle curled around the mast, forcing Squirrel to circle, to scramble around, doubling back. But her feet were light and sure, and she did not waver.

As soon as her hand closed around the cloak, her senses returned. _What am I doing? It's just a cloak!_ With a scream of realisation of the danger she'd put herself on, she leapt free; the Kraken's tentacle crushed itself nonchalantly down the mast, shattering the crank. Squirrel would have been likewise shattered if she'd remained.

With the cloak clutched in her right hand and her dagger in her bloody left, Squirrel fell.

She lay there for a second, maybe more, trying to get back her strength and her breath. Her body ached, sore from her landing, sore from the Kraken's flailing, sore from her attempts to fight off the Kraken… Squirrel stabbed her dagger into the wood of the _Pearl_ - wincing at the pain shooting up through her hand - and pushed herself to her knees. She looked around, reeling and disoriented. _Stupid_, she thought. Then, with a smile, _At least I got it back_.

Squirrel looked up, and saw the tentacles closing around the net of kegs and barrels. Will hung upside-down from the net, helpless. The Kraken was closing in on him, and he couldn't escape. He was trapped.

"WILL!" She struggled to her feet, but her strength was gone. She groaned, and staggered, leaning against the broken mast._ I have to help Will!_

"Shoot!" Will shouted, looking Squirrel's way. "Elizabeth!"

Squirrel looked over her shoulder. Elizabeth stood behind her, proud and golden, the musket in her hand. In her eyes was horrified and pained indecision… and small wonder. If she fired, she'd kill her brave young love. But if she didn't fire, everyone would die.

Squirrel groaned again, pushing herself upright. "Right," she said, steeling herself. And she ran back into the fray.

"No!" Will shouted at her. "Get back!"

Squirrel ignored him. If they were going to survive the Kraken, then the Kraken had to take the bait. The Kraken had to die! Squirrel stabbed at the Kraken's tentacles, drawing them to Will. Drawing them to the net full of explosives. _Come on, you bastards. Follow the bitch with the knife_.

"Get back!"

"Come on!" She shouted at the tentacles. "Follow me, you sodding bastards! I'm over here!" She stabbed downwards at a tentacle, ran; twirled the blade in her bloody hand, stabbed up, ran; the blade twirled, slick with Kraken blood on the blade and her own blood on the handle.

"Squirrel!"

Squirrel looked up at Will. The way he called her name was enough to draw her attention.

"Get away!" He shouted. He had a dagger in his hand, and was sawing at the ropes which held him prisoner. "You'll be killed!"

Squirrel didn't get the chance to answer. One of the Kraken's arms rose behind her. Squirrel screamed, stabbing upwards, slicing open the tentacle's underbelly. She moved, quickly, before it fell on her. And fall it did, crushing the deck with force.

Across the deck came Elizabeth's scream. Squirrel went to answer it, but could not. She stood in the heart of a nest of writhing snakes. Right below the explosives. She'd completed her task to draw the Kraken to Will, and now she was trapped.

"Will!" She screamed, panic rising in her once again. "Help me!" She slashed and stabbed with her glorified butter knife.

"Run!"

Squirrel ran. Cloak in one hand and dagger in the other, Squirrel ran. A tentacle slid across her path. Squirrel screamed at it, stabbed it and again and again and again and again until it reared out of her way. She rolled under it, picked herself up, and kept running.

"Over here, lass!" Gibbs called, motioning her over. She moved to go to him, but something made her pause.

Squirrel stopped, looking over her shoulder. Will jumped free of the net, and the tentacles gathered up the gift they had been left, like Trojans accepting a wooden horse.

Squirrel grinned darkly. _No, you're dead_.

Above the screams and groans of the ship as she broke and splintered, Squirrel heard a gunshot, loud and clear. She heard the bullet sing through the air - once again, time seemed to slow, for she could swear she saw the bullet travelling at a leisurely pace towards the barrels…

Fire blossomed like a deadly flower. Squirrel screamed, falling to her knees, hands before her face to protect herself from the searing heat. She smelled the smoke - sweet from the rum, smoky from the powder and - she grinned, her mouth watering - the smell of seared seafood.

Something old and ancient, something large and powerful, gave a deep bellowing moan which rocked the timbers of the _Pearl_. That cry of pain wiped the smile from Squirrel's face. Chunks of burnt tentacle thudded to the deck, while other tentacles - some looking skeletal, others merely burned - slid hissing back into the sea.

Squirrel rose to her feet, stunned, the adrenaline in her veins gone. Her arms and legs were shaking, spasming of their own accord from weariness and strain. She sheathed her dagger slowly, not wanting to accidentally cut herself. Her left hand stung like the devil, but the pain was reassuring, in a way. She slowly closed her hand, her palm and fingers smarting and bloody.

_I'm… alive_.

Squirrel looked about the deck, dazed and uncomprehending. Marty, Will, Gibbs and Cotton all lived, and were peering over the side. Pintel and Ragetti appeared out from their hiding place, looking about warily. Elizabeth stood on the foredeck with…

Squirrel's heart started all over again. _Jack?_

He held the musket. He was the one who had fired the shot. He was the one who had saved them all.

Squirrel choked, her eyes filling with tears. _Jack!_

All was forgotten as Squirrel flew to him. Nothing else mattered, but that he was here. He'd come back. He'd come back! She ran to Jack and closed her arms around him, clinging to him as though to assure herself that he was real, he was really here, he really was a good man. She couldn't speak. She was crying too hard. _I thought you were a coward. I thought you were a liar. I thought_… Squirrel cried into his chest. _I was wrong. You came back_. Jack slowly closed his arms around Squirrel, embracing her in return. Squirrel felt her heart sing, felt her mood soar. All fatigue was forgotten, all that was past was forgotten.

He was here, and he held her in his arms.

_I've never been so happy to be wrong about you, Jack Sparrow!_

"Cap… tain…" Gibbs barked, the word starting out authoritative before fading into awkwardness. After a small pause, Gibbs cleared his throat, tried again. "Captain, orders?"

Squirrel felt Jack smooth down her hair, and looked up to him, eyes shining with adoration. He smiled at her, but his smile was sad. Squirrel's elation dipped slightly when she saw the look in his eyes. There was hope there, but a terrible hope. A hope at a great cost. Jack looked deep into and held Squirrel's gaze for as long as he could, before finally having to look away. Gingerly, he freed himself from her arms and turned away from her. "Abandon ship," he murmured. "Into the longboat."

Squirrel's tears stopped flowing, though they still rolled down her face. "Jack…" She reached for him, but her arm stopped short.

Gibbs went to his friend's side. "Jack. The _Pearl_…"

"She's only a ship, mate," Jack said heavily, as though each word was a death knell.

Squirrel put her palms together, then rested them against her lips, awed and saddened and touched by this sacrifice. _Oh, Jack_…

"He's right," Elizabeth said, eyes downcast. "We have to head for land." She looked sidelong up at Squirrel, then away, a strange twist to her mouth.

"That's a lot of open water," Pintel offered, worried.

"A lot of open water," Ragetti echoed.

"We have to try," Will said solidly. All heads turned to him. He sighed. "We can make our escape as it takes down the _Pearl_."

Squirrel looked to Jack. He cut a forlorn figure. He moved slow, alone, his hands brushing the timbers, the stairs, as if saying his last farewell. Squirrel felt her heart breaking for him. _Jack_…

_You came back for us. You came back_. Squirrel moved to his side.

"Abandon ship, then," Gibbs' voice came to her as though from a dream. "Abandon ship, or abandon hope."

"Jack?" Squirrel put her hand on his arm. "Jack…"

"Go on, luv," Jack said, staring down at the deck. The deck with which he used to walk with such pride and confidence. Which he used to walk as captain. "Don't have a lot of time."

_When did he get so short?_ Squirrel wondered. She was near eye level with him. Somehow he seemed so small, nothing like the tall and charming figure of a captain he once was. Squirrel stayed with him, rubbing his arm gently in what comfort she could give him. Perhaps despair had bowed him, perhaps despair was the reason for the slump of his shoulders, draining him of his life, his charm. Squirrel wanted to reassure him, to give him the strength he needed to carry out his farewell.

"Jack."

Jack looked to her, and mustered up a small smile. He wiped away a stray tear from Squirrel's face with his calloused thumb. "Go on, luv. I won't be long."

Squirrel kissed him.

Fate, destiny, or whatever it is known, has a strange way of being cyclic. This time, there was no crew to stumble or curse; there were no waves against the hull, and all seabirds had fled. There was no song playing in her head. There was no fear, no memory of the past. Shadows meant nothing. Instinct was pushing her in the right direction this time. Someone may have interfered, but who could say? Whatever the case, it was a quirk, a cruel trick.

Jack turned his head to look out over his ship, and Squirrel's kiss missed its mark.

Squirrel felt her heart sink, feeling foolish at having missed her chance. Her kiss lingered as long as it could on his cheek; she felt the roughness of his beard, smelled the salt in his hair, felt her eyelashes brushing against his skin. But as she drew away with a small sigh, Jack turned back to look at her, something like surprise in his eyes. Surprise which slowly moulded to a knowing smile. Something of the old Jack Sparrow - his charm, his unpredictability, his maddening self-assurance and his almost irritating ego - sparkled in his eyes. It was as if he'd been proved right.

Jack put his hand on Squirrel's head, ruffling her hair like she was a child. "G'wan," he pointed with his chin. "Boat. Go." But he didn't take his eyes from her.

"Aye, captain," Squirrel said softly, making a small curtsy before turning away. She knew she was blushing but didn't care. She felt light-headed. She could fly if she wanted to.

Gibbs looked at her curiously as she approached. "Well, Miss Grey…" He smiled a little, not knowing what to say. Marty and Cotton wore similar expressions of polite but unconcealed amazement.

Squirrel smiled, reading them plain. _You all had no idea. You had no idea I loved Jack_.

Mister Cotton's parrot danced on his owner's shoulder. "Ship in the offing," it said, somewhat cheekily, and bobbed its coloured head. Mister Cotton glanced at his 'voice', embarrassed.

Squirrel just smiled, not knowing what had been said. She turned back to Gibbs. "Anything we need to bring with us?"

Gibbs nodded, pointing over his shoulder with him thumb. "There's a sack there, just by the stairs."

Squirrel went to get it. Though her hand still bled, and her entire body was sore and tired, she didn't care. The sun was bright and the day was beautiful. And if she could fly, she could certainly pick up a sack. Gingerly, she hoisted it under her arm, holding it firm, her cloak still held in her right hand.

By the time she returned with the sack, Marty and Cotton were already in the boat - along with Pintel and Ragetti - and Will was slowly descending. Will caught Squirrel's eye, and paused halfway down the ladder. He smiled warmly, as if in congratulations. Squirrel smiled back, bobbing her head, and nearly dropped the sack as she did so. She giggled at her clumsiness.

"Here," Will said, "Let me help." He stretched an arm out to her, and waited. Squirrel smiled, glad for his help, and passed the sack down to him. "Your cloak, too?" Will asked, handing the sack to Pintel to deal with. Squirrel let Will take her cloak, and he set it on the seat behind him.

And then he reached for her.

Squirrel shook her head, still smiling. "Thankyou, but I can climb down myself." She took hold of the railing, and swung herself around to the ladder. Her hand screamed at her, and the congealed blood ripped away: the rope burns started bleeding again. Squirrel bit her tongue to keep from crying out. Frowning with the pain, she examined her left hand, not knowing how bad it was. She felt Will standing on the step just below her, felt his silent concern. She looked up, determined to keep smiling, to say that she was alright.

But then she saw Jack, and she knew she'd never be alright. Never again.

Jack and Elizabeth, pushed together in a kiss, a strong passionate kiss. The way they kissed brought a dagger to Squirrel's heart, again and again and again. A green steel dagger that shattered into a thousand glassy fragments, each of them piercing her over and over and over…

She lost her footing and slipped, falling. Someone caught her, and she leaned against him, her face buried in his chest. She couldn't breathe. Her heart was loud in her ears and the beat seemed to drown out voice, sounds, sights; everything.

_Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump- thump-thump-thump-thump…_

But it couldn't drown out what she'd seen. What she'd seen was seared into her mind. Seared with a remorseless iron brand.

She'd been a fool. A fool to think he were more than what he appeared. A fool to think he could have been a good man. A fool to love him.

Squirrel pushed away, out of the arms of the one who comforted her. She pushed them away, staggered, falling heavily, and sat and stared at her bloody hand. There was a block of ice in the pit of her stomach, and the ice was spreading slowly, like a poison, killing the fire in her veins, ember by ember.

_Thump-thump-thump-thump thump-thump-thump-thump…_

The boat rocked as Gibbs climbed aboard. Squirrel looked up, her vision obscenely clear and sharp, unblurred by tears or darkness. It had been Will who had caught her. It had been Will who had held her. He sat down slowly, so slowly, then turned his dark eyes Squirrel's way, looking stunned, hurt, heartbroken.

His eyes were a mirror, and Squirrel couldn't help but see herself. She saw herself in great, great pain. The same pain suffered by William Turner.

_Thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump…_

She'd left behind everything she'd known to follow a man who she loved from afar. Yet what had she gained from it? Uncertainty and pain and her heart yanked around at his chain, and now… the cold hollow emptiness of heartbreak. She knew that it would end badly. She'd known all along, but she'd been blind. Blinded by love. 'Love'.

So much for dreams.

_Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…_

Squirrel closed her bloodied hand, crushing it into a fist, staring at the way the blood oozed out between her knuckles. No more panic, no more fear or trembling, just quiet and undignified anger and pain. And soon, not even that.

The longboat rocked as someone else climbed down. Squirrel looked up, ready to swing her fist into that damned pirate's smug and selfish face. But it wasn't the heartbreaker. It was Miss Swann. She sat next to Will, in front of Squirrel, and stared resolutely forward.

"Where's Jack?" Will asked. He wore a mask, cold as fine china and just as blank. He wore it well, hiding what Squirrel had seen, could still see. Squirrel waited, wanting to hear the excuse given by the governor's daughter. Wanting to hear her gloat so Squirrel could have an excuse to punch Elizabeth in the face instead. So she could feel something other than this cold emptiness…

"He volunteered to stay behind to give us all a chance," the fine lady said, her voice trembling and her face smeared with tears. She couldn't look Will in the eye, couldn't look anyone in the eye.

Elizabeth would be a poor poker player. She lied badly.

Squirrel slowly released the fist, perversely relieved by this declaration. _So the captain goes down with his ship. How fitting a death. Though he deserves much less_. As for the other… she deserved a knife in a back. Squirrel's right hand itched, her dagger whispered promises, and Elizabeth's back presented a fine target. Unprepared and well-deserving.

But Squirrel didn't move. She just sat, wearing a mask of her own, listening to the sound of her heart.

_Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump, thump thump_…

"Go!" Miss Swann shouted, and the longboat moved away, away from the _Pearl_, leaving her and her captain to die. Squirrel jolted with the boat's movement, but did not move herself. She sat there, at the stern of the little boat, head tilted, considering the invisible, lost in silence and thoughts-that-were-not-thoughts.

Papers covered in cryptic notes. Lavender oil. Blue fabric decorated with white thread. A cloak and a dagger. Shoes that were worn from following at the heels of a man who hadn't known she existed. Empty shells. Sunlight and moonlight.

Moonlight had favoured him, loved him like Lady Luck herself. Moonlight had loved him, been at his side like a faithful shadow. The silver of the moon loved him, loved him unconditionally, though she received nothing but the blackness of night and a few sparks from the fire in return. But then daylight had come, and moonlight was forgotten in the presence of the sun. It was sunlight to which the pirate had turned his face in the end. It was warm, frivolous sunlight which he had embraced, which he wanted. Moonlight was not to this pirate's taste - why have silver when you can have gold?

Never trust a pirate. Never.

Squirrel reached up and savagely pulled at the silver doubloon from her neck. The cord gripped at her, not wanting to let go, not wanting to be parted from her. But she pulled until the leather tie gave way, uncaring - she was too hurt, too cold, to care now. She held the coin in her open hand and stared at it.

It stared back at her, like an eye. A black iron pupil at the centre of a grey-blue iris. Squirrel crushed it in her hand, intending to throw it to the depths, along with the pirate, where it belonged. Forgotten and forsaken, like her heart. But something stayed her hand.

She slipped it instead into the empty pouch at her belt, the one that contained the nuts she ate, the food from which she gained her name. There, the coin was safe. Safe, but not forgotten. Not yet.

_Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump…_

The water was wide and fathomless, its surface shifting and changing like trust. Squirrel stared out over it, her face featureless, blank. Her thoughts churned and pulled and pushed at her like currents, but on the surface, she was calm. Slowly, those thoughts - like her heartbeat - calmed, cooled, froze with the ice water that was seeping through her veins.

She would not look back. She would keep her eyes turned ahead and she would wait until she was sure he was dead. But then she heard the _Pearl_ cry out over the water, and turned. Like Lot's wife, she turned. And she froze, watching, covered by the salt of the sea.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump…_

Images flashed over Squirrel's vision. A bird in a cage, singing and straining against the bars. A spinning compass. A tricorn hat. A sword. A length of beads on a string. A candle, extinguished and smoking. A small boy with greasy hair tied back under a red bandana, trapped in an alleyway, a broken sword his only defence.

The Kraken reared over the _Pearl_, its monstrous bunk making the ship lean and wobble uncertainly. Squirrel did not fear the Kraken now. She was beyond fear. Fear had taken her in its grip and shaken her, but it had let her go. Squirrel watched, measuring the movements of the Kraken's arms and strange carapace of a body with calculated interest. She watched at its arms entwined around the masts of the Pearl. She watched as the creature's bulk heaves up on the starboard side. She watched as the Kraken slowly toppled the _Pearl_, bringing it crashing down into the sea. The ice in Squirrel's veins did not abate, but she felt a cold kind of satisfaction as she watched the ship fall.

Knowing, now, for certain, that the pirate was dead.

_Thump… Thump… Thump… Thump… _

The figurehead - that angel at the prow of the ship - seemed to turn to Squirrel before she was drowned. The wooden eyes of the _Pearl_ locked on to Squirrel, wild with fear and grief, and the angel's arm seemed to reach over the foam and through the tentacles, pleading: _help me!_ But Squirrel was deaf to her pleas. The water foamed and frothed, and the angel sank, vanished, and was lost forever.

The _Pearl_ had been her home. Now, it was nothing. A wreck at the bottom of the sea, crushed in a squid's embrace.

_Thump… thump… thump… thump…_

A tentacle rose up from the water, sweeping the air as the last of the _Pearl_ vanished below the waves. It seemed to beckon to Squirrel, like a welcoming hand. _Come to me_, it seemed to say, _Come with me_.

_Thump… thump…_

Squirrel frowned over at the _Flying Dutchman_. Davy Jones stood on deck, watching as the Pearl was swept under the surface, a callous captain. _Come with you?_

… _thump… _

And then Squirrel felt… nothing.


	19. Ends Of The Earth

**Disclaimer**: I took the liberty of filling in Squirrel's name.

**A/N**: Thankyou, everyone, for reading this far. To those who have reviewed: your kind words have made me laugh and helped me to keep going. Rock, rock on.

* * *

Squirrel opened her eyes, and saw Marty looking down at her, concerned. "She's awake!" He cried, relieved, then turned back to her. "You alright, Miss?" His voice was garbled, distant. 

Squirrel sat up slowly, feeling nauseous, the landscape spinning. Slowly, her senses returned, and she was able to take stock of her surroundings. It was night now, early evening, and the trees overhead were those of mangroves and swamp plants. The air was warm and close, smelt fetid, like rotting plants. Mosquitoes whined through the air, birds called unseen through the trees, water splashed from the passing of hidden creatures. They were in the swamp.

Tia's swamp.

"You fainted," Marty said, unnecessarily explaining the hole in Squirrel's memory.

"And small wonder too," Gibbs added, offering a canteen of water to Squirrel. "After not eatin' all day, and then with fightin' the Kraken and then with J…" His voice faded away into nothingness, the light in his eyes to hopelessness.

_Leave me be_, Squirrel said - or tried to. Her voice was gone, and her tongue lay flat and immobile. Wearily, she leaned forward, her hair falling over her face, and stared at the planking between her knees.

How fortuitous it should be that the island that hid Davy Jones' heart should be so close to the island of the Pelegostas. What a coincidence it was that the dead man's chest was so close to where the witch - the one who told them the tale of the heart in the first place - lived.

_No coincidences_, Squirrel thought, the corner of her mouth kicking up in a brief and cold half-smile.

The heart of Davy Jones. Squirrel's eyes flashed bright for a moment, savage anger which she quickly restrained. The heart was gone. Stolen. Stolen to be traded. _Norrington_, she thought, her lips mouthing the name, her brow furrowed. _Ah yes, you took the heart, didn't you? Coward_.

Squirrel could picture Norrington now, standing in Port Royal, an officer once more, but only in name and not in honour. The heart lay on a desk, held under the piercing eyes of a man whose presence sent shivers down Squirrel's spine. His eyes were so determined, so self-confident. Now, he held the world in his hand. Just like he'd always wanted.

"Beckett," she murmured, too low for even herself to hear.

The animal noises of the marsh were slowly drowned out by a slow, droning hum. Squirrel lifted her head, pushing her hair from her eyes, and looked around. There were no fireflies tonight, but lights of a different sort. Faces came out of the darkness, each one bearing a candle. Dark forms of escaped slaves - men, women and children - rose out of the trees and the river, each one bearing a flickering light, their faces turned to the boat as it passed through the river. It was their voices that made the funerary humming. They came close, this time. Before they had watched silently from the trees like silent sentinels; now they came forward, presenting themselves plainly, bold and unafraid.

Squirrel watched them all pass, one by one, unaffected by the sheer number of them, untouched by the sadness and sympathy on those faces. Squirrel had to fight to prevent her lip curling in disdain as the boat passed a woman whose tears fell unashamedly.

_Why do you cry for him?_ Squirrel thought with disgust. _You don't even know him!_

A second thought rounded angrily on her, baring hateful fangs: _You knew him! You know him! And your eyes aren't even wet!_ The voice softened, beseeching. _Please, don't be like this_. _You loved him. You still love him_.

_Love?_ Squirrel snarled silently, forcing the whining voice away. _Love is foolish. Love is blind. Love is stupid, naïve, a hope easily shattered; love is for fools and simpletons; love leaves scars that will never heal. Love fails. Love dies._

_Love dies_.

She looked around at all the mourning faces, and heard the chorus of their humming. The sound seemed to bore into her skull. She tried to block it out, tried to ignore it. She tried to listen to her heart instead.

But she couldn't hear it. She couldn't even feel it.

Will looked over his shoulder, seemingly to search for something. His eyes caught Squirrel's. They stared at each other for a second, an eternity, before both of them looked away.

The boat slowed as it reached its final destination. Squirrel was the first out of the boat. It had not even touched the dock at the base of Tia's tree before Squirrel leapt, the first to set foot ashore. Cradling her wounded hand, Squirrel awkwardly climbed up the ladder to the treehouse with her right hand. She didn't care about the others. Her body groaned, its old aches and pains remembered, but was ignored. All Squirrel wanted was to get this over with. She pushed the door aside.

Tia was waiting, standing as demurely as a lady-in-waiting in her beautiful gown. Her skin shone like brass, and at her throat rested a heart of gold on a chain. Her deep, dark eyes were burdened with knowledge and sadness. Neither woman moved - they simply stared at each other. Waiting.

"He's dead." Squirrel rasped, and staggered.

Tia caught Squirrel before she fell, and helped her to a chair. The same chair Tia had occupied when she had played at being oracle, casting the crab claws. No claws were on the table now, but in a cleared space - between the bat candleholders and the collection of other strange items - was a bowl of water and a soft yellow cloth. Gently, Tia took Squirrel's left hand, and placed it in the bowl.

Squirrel winced and flinched, but did not pull her hand back. There seemed to be salt in the water, and lemon, and herbs. A healing concoction. Squirrel grit her teeth and endured the pain, for this pain would pass. It would heal her.

Tia looked sympathetically and sadly at Squirrel before turning to greet the others. The swamp woman moved silently, directing some to stand, so to sit. She seemed to know exactly what to do, what expression to wear, what comfort to offer. Tia did not speak. No-one spoke. Squirrel had said enough for everyone.

Squirrel bowed her head and stared at the bowl, at the way the water slowly turned pink from the blood of her hand. As she stared, her thoughts on nothingness, other details came to her attention. Among the various scattered items on the table - all seemingly worthless - Squirrel's eye was caught by a small flask. Curious, she picked it up, and examined it closer.

A small glass bottle, filled with a clear liquid, with a stopper of a pale green stone. _Jade_, Squirrel thought, although she couldn't say how she knew. The stone of the stopper was carved like a strange curling snake. There was a design in the glass of the bottle, a collection symmetrical lines that were both curved and straight. Lines which crossed themselves, which self-enclosed themselves in a circle. A strange symbol.

_Shou_.

Squirrel murmured the word. "_Shou_…" She closed her fingers around the cool glass of the bottle. It appealed to her, somehow. Slowly, Squirrel hid her hand under the table, and slid the bottle into the pouch at her belt, the one which would have contained the stones for her shanghai. The bottle fit perfectly into the pouch.

Something appeared above Squirrel's line of vision, and she jumped, startled and guilty. It was only Tia, lowering something before Squirrel's face. Squirrel kept very still as the swamp woman tied whatever-it-was around Squirrel's neck. She waited while Tia fastened it, and then lifted Squirrel's hair free. Then, Squirrel touched her throat, and her fingers found what had been given to her.

A necklace.

Five rough diamonds, hewn from bone, or stone, or fossilised wood, spaced evenly with beads of the same material. It lay heavy and close to Squirrel's skin; it was cold, but it was warming to her quickly. Curious, Squirrel fingered the edges of the centre diamond, and looked to Tia, silently asking the purpose of such a gift.

In answer, Tia took hold of Squirrel's right hand. She pressed between the two centre knuckles of Squirrel's palm, then the heel of her hand, then the left and right edges.

Squirrel understood straight away. _The shape of the diamond. The four points of the compass_. Then she frowned, and looked down at her necklace, then up at Tia again. _There were five points. Five. If compass only points four ways, if a diamond only has four points, what is the fifth?_

Tia pressed the centre of Squirrel's hand, then closed Squirrel's fingers over it, into a fist. _The fifth point of the compass is wherever you stand. It is what your heart seeks. It is your heart, your guide_. Tia held Squirrel's gaze with eyes dark and fathomless. _It is all of these and none; it is what you decide._ _Do you understand?_

Squirrel nodded. _Yes_.

Tia nodded in return, then turned away to the depths of her house, vanishing with a swish of her dress and of the curtain.

Squirrel stared at her balled right fist for a moment, then uncurled her fingers. _Whatever I decide, huh?_ She looked up, and found Will staring at her. Startled, Squirrel made to turn her eyes away, but then realised where his sight led. He wasn't staring _at _her; he was staring past her, off into the distance. And Squirrel just happened to be in the way. In Will's hand was the dagger from his father. Restlessly, he held it, fingering the edge of the blade. Then, he threw it. The blade dug into the wood of the table he sat at; he prised it free and repeated the action. Again and again he threw the dagger, pulled it free of the wood, threw it again.

Squirrel restlessly stirred her hand in the bowl of water. Each _thnk!_ of the dagger was unsettlingly comforting. Each time the dagger stabbed the wood, Squirrel relaxed, silently agreeing with Will's hidden anger and discontent.

Elizabeth sat across from Will, her golden face smeared with tears. She looked a picture of abject misery.

_We've been betrayed, you and I_, Squirrel thought darkly, looking back at Will. _We're in the same boat_. Will looked up, and he and Squirrel shared a glance laden with meaning. _Thnk_, went the dagger.

Tia re-emerged from behind the curtain with a tray. On this tray were candles and a collection of mismatched mugs. She went to Elizabeth first, offering her a drink, but the woman shook her head, not wanting one.

"Against the cold," Tia said. "And deh sorrow."

Elizabeth reluctantly took one. Will's dagger stabbed the table once again.

"Is a sheem," Tia went to Will's side. "I know dat you're tinkin' dat wid deh _Pearl_, you could have cap'tured deh Devil and set free yer fah-dah…"

"It doesn't matter now," Will said, stoic and blank. "The _Black Pearl_ is gone. Along with its captain." The table got an extra savage stab. Squirrel nodded invisibly, her eyes on the depth of the wound in the table.

"Aye," Gibbs said, from out on the balcony. "And already the world seems a little less bright."

_You're so full of it, Gibbs_, Squirrel thought, but kept the thought off her face. She accepted the drink Tia offered her. Sipping at the cold metal cup, Squirrel almost gagged. Her throat was so tight and bound she couldn't even swallow a mouthful. Regardless, she tried again, and this time the drink slid down her throat. Squirrel gagged again. The drink was neither warm nor cold nor room-temperature, nether spicy nor plain, neither sweet nor sour nor bitter nor salty, and it had no texture whatsoever. Squirrel had expected it to taste of something bitter, or at the very least, something bitter sweet. But it tasted of nothing. Squirrel stared at the liquid in the cup, and her reflection stared back at her. _What is this? What manner of… ah, but what does it matter? A drink's a drink_. Without further thought on the topic, Squirrel tilted back her head and downed as much as she could.

"He fooled us all, right to the very end. But I guess that honest streak finally won out."

Will and Squirrel looked to each other. This time Squirrel didn't bother hiding the expression on her face. _Honest? Him? No. He was a pirate. A pirate to the end. And he took what he wanted from all of us, just so he could keep his precious life. He died because his misdeeds caught up with him. His crimes. His debt_. _He never put his life in play, and therefore, he lost it. _Will stabbed the table, agreeing with Squirrel's shadowed eyes.

_For whosoever would save his life will lose it…_ A woman's voice echoed, distorted and twisted by time.

"To Jack Sparrow!"

Squirrel looked over her empty mug to see Gibbs' drink raised in salute. _You cannot be serious…_

"Never another like Captain Jack!" A tearful Ragetti lifted his mug too.

"'E was a gennelman of fortune, 'e was!" Pintel agreed. Cotton and Marty lifted their mugs, silently.

"He was a good man."

Will lowered the mug from his lips, looking wounded. Squirrel looked over at Elizabeth, the green dagger piercing her again. _Good? Good, was he? How good, exactly? Better than your man, hrm?_ Squirrel's wounded hand clenched in the bowl, and she set her mug down, refusing to salute.

But Will drank from his, downing all the drink in one swig. Then he turned to look at Elizabeth, and something seemed to strike him in the heart too. Perhaps it was the woman's misery which made him pause. "Elizabeth… If there was anything that could be done…"

Both Squirrel and Elizabeth looked to Will, surprised, though the latter had tears in her eyes and the former had naught but disbelief.

Will rose to his feet. "If there was any way to bring him back…"

"Would you do it?" Tia interrupted, moving smoothly into place before Will. "Would you do it, hrm?" She looked around. "What would any of your be willing t' do?" She looked to Squirrel. "Hrm?"

Squirrel looked down at her torn hand, her face hard.

"What would any of you be willin' t' do?" Tia looked around at the assembled company, her ink-stained smile making her look like a sibyl once again. "Will ye seel t' deh ends of deh eart'… an' beyond, to fetch back wid deh Jack, and him precious _Pearl_?"

Tia's choice of words was so ironic that Squirrel had to bite her tongue to keep from letting out a peal of laughter. _The ends of the earth? _Squirrel hid a half-smile. _Well, I said I would. And I always keep my word_. She silently laughed, mocking herself, then picked up her mug and finished the last mouthful. _But I said I would go. I didn't say I will_.

"Aye." Gibbs said, standing tall.

"Aye," Pintel rasped.

Eager Ragetti was next to agree. "Aye."

Cotton saluted, and his parrot spread its wings. "Aye, aye! Brawk!"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

Will looked to Tia, resolve in his eyes strong, but his voice soft. "Aye."

Squirrel blanched, the laughter in her dying. _What? You? You'd go to save that… pirate? Why?_ _Will, for what purpose could you possibly… _

Elizabeth's tears were slowly fading, a light of hope flickering in her eyes as she looked to Will.

_Ah_, Squirrel thought, lowering her eyes. _Now I see, William._ _You'd sacrifice your happiness… just so that she'd smile again_.

Faces turned to Squirrel, waiting, expectant, predicting her answer. Squirrel looked down, her hair hiding her eyes… then rose to her feet. She wrapped her wounded hand, dripping from the healing waters, in the yellow cloth, and faced Tia boldly. The crew - her friends, her family - all smiled, all thinking they knew why she'd risen.

They were all wrong.

Squirrel looked to Will, her mouth set in a grim line, but he was not looking at Squirrel. He was looking at Elizabeth. There was such devotion in his eyes, devotion and unsullied integrity which masked the pain and heartache he felt.

Squirrel's mask was blank - she could show no other face to those gathered.

"All right," Tia nodded, well pleased as she surveyed the faces turned her way. She spoke slowly, making sure all heard her, all understood. "But if you're goin' t' brave deh weird an' haunted shores at world's en', you will need a kep-ten who knows dose waters…" She turned, lifting her eyes to the ceiling of her house.

Heavy booted footsteps marched across the planking above them. Faces turned like sunflowers to the sun, following the sound of those steps.

As each step drew nearer, Squirrel frowned, her breath quickening. There was a chill passing down her spine, yet, at the same time, her senses were singing.

_The thrill of fate_.

Slowly, Squirrel turned, leaving the comfort of the table to look to see who Tia's words had summoned. Turning to see who it was that would take them to the end of the world.

Black boots descended the staircase.

Behind Squirrel, seven breaths were caught and held in surprise and fear. But Squirrel did not know the man who stood before them, so she breathed easy. But she did know the monkey that sat on the man's shoulder.

A scarred but congenial face laughed. "So tell me," he burred, his accent course and charming, "What's become of my ship?" He took a bite of a green apple, looking well-pleased and amused by his reception, the juice of the apple running down his chin. The monkey gave a hissing bark at the faces turned his way.

No-one moved. No-one spoke. All were shocked. Frightened. Horrified, even. Will even reached for the hilt of his sword, but dared not draw it.

Squirrel stepped forward, unafraid, unintimidated. She put out her right hand.

"Squirrel Grey," she said, introducing herself. "Lookout, cook, and occasional quartermaster."

The older man dressed in black took her hand like a gentleman. There was an admirable strength in his handshake. "Charmed," he said, looking at Squirrel with eyes the colour of the sky. "Cap'n Hector Barbossa, at your service, miss."

"Barbossa." Squirrel stared. This was the man she'd heard stories about. The man who'd sent William's father to the bottom of the sea. The man who mutinied against and marooned their former captain. A man so evil that Hell itself was said to have spat him back out.

Squirrel did not slacken her handshake, nor did she pull away. Instead, she gave a wider smile, welcoming, and gripped his hand firmly. "Good to have you with us, Captain," she said, considerate and warm. "Welcome back."

Barbossa chuckled, and took another bite of his apple.

**

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A/N:** Thus ends Squirrel: Deux. Thankyou all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. To those who reviewed more than once, especially if you helped with stuff or just wanted to chat - you guys rule. Thankyou so very much! 

Coming soon, the next instalment. Barbossa leads Will, Elizabeth, Squirrel and the rest of the crew to the World's End. Compromises, betrayals, double-crossings, and hidden agendas are sure be involved when you make deals with pirates... let alone if you are one!


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